


Hook's Stalker Obsession

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Romance, Smut, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle's curse breaks at the worse possible time, leaving Hook to learn he doesn't handle rejection well, while Belle is about to learn what it's like to be stalked by an obsessed, love sick pirate who is growing desperate. Dark Hook warnings. (That's not the real title, but I could never come up with one that fit this story.)</p>
<p>Fic Started in May 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Standard disclaimer time: I do not own Once Upon a Time, or the characters from that show. I do not make any money off of this story. This is done purely for entertainment purposes, and because I can't stop thinking up Hook Belle ideas! XD

\-------------Michelle 

 

The dark night is miserable, with a storm so bad, it's waters have soaked everything within seconds of starting. Thick, heavy clouds fill the sky, obscuring the light of the moon and the stars. It's a night one could easily get lost in, the darkness so surrounding, even the best of navigators would have had trouble telling up from down. 

If I had been at sea, I'd have been lost. Tossed around on forty foot waves, my ship with it's enchanted wood, struggling still to hold together and keep from being bashed apart by the storm. Instead I am landlocked, battered by worse than the storm. 

The rain keeps on falling, pouring over me, getting past the layers of my clothes. I barely notice the cold of it on my skin, numb to everything but the fact of why I am out on a night like this. Of why I am rooted to the spot, standing in shadows, and staring up at her window. 

The storm continues, the sky feeling as though it's sharing in my heart ache. I am as still as a statue, my eyes on a second floor window. Waiting for the light to come on, waiting for just a glimpse of her. But hour after hour has passed, not so much as her shadow passing by the window. 

Though I am weary, I persist in waiting. I need to see her, need that stolen glimpse perhaps more than I need air to breathe. I tell myself I will be satisfied with just looking at her, but in my heart of hearts, I know that isn't true. I want to do more than look at her. I want to hold her. To touch and kiss her, to feel her embrace me back. I want for us both to make each other ready, then sink myself inside her, as we make slow, savoring love. 

It's not going to happen. Even if I could hold myself back from a hard, frantic claiming, I know she won't let me anywhere near. Certainly not to speak with her, never mind to touch her. She's scared of me, scared of us. Terrified of the thing between us, the attraction she claims she doesn't feel. She's been running from me, from us, desperate to put distance to if not an outright end to our love. She doesn't understand that it won't be so easy, that I won't be deterred. Especially now. Especially now that I know she feels for me, that she remembers everything. 

I didn't always know that. When her curse had first broke, when she was frightened and crying, the tears and panic allowed her to hide. She didn't even have to lie to me, simply too taken in the moment by her fear and her confusion, her panic and horror over what was happening, over what we had been in the middle of doing when her memories came flooding back. 

I remember that moment, and the minutes leading up to it, as though it is happening now. It's simply that vivid in my mind, everything from the look in her eyes, to the feel of her body on top of mine. It was the instant our world came crashing apart at the seams, her beautiful blue eyes awash with frightened tears. 

Seeing her like that, openly crying as she fought to scramble off of me? There hadn't been a doubt in my mind what had happened then. What she had finally remembered, even if neither of us understood just what had broken the curse at that time. 

Just as unclear was whether or not she had remembered US, and the months we had spent together. The feelings that had blossomed amidst a soul jarring attraction. That night, so panicked was she, I simply couldn't tell, couldn't know if she was struggling with memories both old and new. I didn't help things, practically panicking in my own way. Grabbing at her in an attempt to calm and soothe both of us, my heart hammering just as hard as hers surely had, 

She had fought even that, slapping at my shoulders, trying to squirm free. It had only made me cling harder to her, low sounds escaping me in an attempt to soothe the worst of her tears. Not even that had worked, and in a fit of absolute desperation, I had kissed her. 

The kiss, by no means tame, was wild at best. Desperate and hungry, I was fighting for a chance, for us. Actually daring to hope in the miracle of true love's kiss. She didn't kiss me back, actually slicing my bottom lip open with her teeth. Even as blood dripped down my chin, I had tried to reach her. Tried and seemingly failed, her screams having sounded an alarm. 

The wolf had then burst into the room, followed a few minutes later by the old woman. Granny who had never liked me, never approved of my continued association with her newest charge, had needed nothing more than to hear the screams before priming her weapon. I found myself looking down the barrel of a shot gun, and had to reluctantly hand over the girl. 

The instant she was free, the wolf had thrown my coat at me. I suppose I was lucky that they had allowed me that much, and that the coat was long enough to cover me down to my knees. They certainly hadn't waited for me to find and dress in the rest of my clothes, forcing me away from her, away from the room. 

I can remember standing out in the inn's hall, the coat open, my distress preventing me from bothering with buttoning it closed. I had kept trying to explain, had kept trying to dart past the wolf, almost not caring if Granny shot me. I had kept screaming her name, at times begging her to just listen to me. But she never came out of the room, never even came near the door. 

I cringe even now, thinking, knowing how much she must have been suffering that night. The panic, the confusion, and yes I could even admit to the horror. As far as awakenings go, it wasn't the most pleasant, to wake up riding the very man who had shot you months ago. The very man who had once been nothing but a threat, locked in a blood feud that's causalities had spilled onto you. 

I don't often regret things. Certainly I've never regretted the revenge I had been seeking. In the pursuit of that revenge, I had lied, stolen, and killed, manipulated and plotted, even cheated to get my way. I have used people, and that included her. I HAD hurt her, and took advantage of her cursed state, to foster first a friendship and then a relationship as lovers. I had intended to seduce her only to get back at him, at Rumplestiltskin. And never had I intended to actually come to care for her, to feel, to fall in love and have that love returned. 

I know that love would never have come to be, if I hadn't done some terrible things. If I hadn't shot and cursed her in the first place. I'm not exactly ashamed, not even now. I'm still a greedy, grasping, take what he wants pirate. And what I want is her. I want her to look at me with that adoring look in her eyes. I want to see her soft smile, that genuinely delighted look she wore when greeting me. I want to hold and touch her, to savor and taste her. I want to take her away from here, to run to the farthest corners of this realm, to lock her away from all others, until she remembers and admits to the love we both feel for each other. 

I want the future we had talked about. The future she had made me believe in and want. I want to live out my life at her side, and I refuse to take no for an answer. She can avoid me all she wants, but eventually? It will happen. My patience can last for only so long, I can wait only so long for her to come to grips with all that's happened, with the feelings and memories she has. It's up to her how this acceptance will happen. If it will be by her decision or mine. Until then, I can only wait, my patience fraying by the day, waiting for me to snap completely. 

It's already so close to happening. With the light coming on in her room, it's all I can do to stay in the shadows. All I can do to not call out to her, not to try and climb that rain slick wall, and break into her room. I'm that much closer to committing another crime against her, wanting, needing to carry her off. But just like the nights before this one, I force myself to settle for looking at her. To savor the quick glimpse I get, when she appears at the window, casting a rightfully paranoid look outside. 

Would she scream if she knew I was there, waiting in the shadows. Would she be frightened to know just how close I was to taking her away from everything she's ever known? Would she still fight my embrace, bite down in response to my fevered kisses? More than that I wonder how she can continue to run from me, from the love we have. A love I will confront her with, force her to face and accept it, accept me. 

She's running out of options. I'll take the choice from her. I won't allow her to run to Rumplestiltskin's waiting arms, won't allow her to pretend her love for him is greater than the love she has for me. I'll make her remember how perfect we are together, how much better a person I became with her in my life. I'll make her recall the promises we whispered to each other, promises that I'll hold her to them. 

I'll make her mine again, one way or the other. And there's not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
To Be Continued...


	2. Two

It is a struggle not to go to her. I hold fast to my decision, but barely, everything in me aching for her. But I remain outside in the shadows, letting the rain plaster me. I am soaked to the bone, and don't care if I get sick. How can I care, when I am already heart sick, plagued with unfulfilled longings for her? 

It's only been a few days, but to me it might as well have been years. Our separation hits me that strongly, leaves me feeling like I am dying without her. Slowly suffocating on need and desperation, I want to reach out to her for my salvation. But I want more than that, I want her acceptance, and I want her love. I want her everything, and the things she had once promised me. I want that future together, that happy ever after that has proven so elusive. 

I wasn't always like this. When I first began my pursuit of her, it was nothing more than pure revenge motivated. A game meant to get me what I wanted, a plan designed to hurt Rumplestiltskin in a way worse then he had hurt me. I wasn't supposed to develop real feelings, wasn't supposed to become invested in the idea of us. I was only meant to use her, to steal any chance he had of winning her back. I had tried to twist things for them both, and instead ended caught in a trap of my own making. It had become about more than revenge, I had fallen in love. With a good woman, with his woman, and there was no high greater than the fact that she loved me just as much back. 

For months now I've ridden on that high, secure in her love, and my feelings for her. It's changed me, and so has she. I've become a better person, a man I thought was worthy of happy ever after. I wasn't always the man that she deserved, but love had softened my rough edges, nearly civilized the pirate within me. In one night, all that had changed, her curse breaking and so nearly had my heart. Seeing her that way, so frightened and crying, I had almost believed all chance of us was gone. Sometime I still fear it, but that only hardens my resolve. The love IS there, and I will make her admit to it, to every moment we spent together making memories and promises. 

She's running scared right now, trying to deny it, deny us. I'm not helping matters by stalking her, but I just can't seem to stay away. I haven't been able to from the moment she first ran into my room, breathless and afraid, and not realizing someone else was there with her until after she had closed and locked the door. 

That night is vivid in my mind, her standing there in a blue dotted hospital gown. Her long brown hair had tangled curls around her face, her skin pale, her eyes wild and frightened. She looked beautiful even then, but more than that, I had been aware of how vulnerable she seemed. I hadn't given more thought to her than that, when she had turned and startled at the sight of me. 

She had gasped at me, then quickly winced, putting a hand to her lips. Her eyes had seemed to be pleading, the woman desperate though I hadn't yet understood why. And then I had heard him, a harsh shout of her name, the woman trembling further. A million thoughts must have passed through my mind as Rumplestiltskin's shadow stalked past the door. 

She'd breathe a sigh of relief when I made no move to betray her. I'd wait until Rumplestiltskin was gone to gesture her closer. I nearly smirked when she came towards me, all innocent and trusting. Looking so grateful to have escaped him. She didn't know the real danger was before her, that she was alone in a locked room with the man who had shot her roughly one night before. 

She hadn't been aware of her vulnerable position, but I? Not only had I known, I had recognize instantly the opportunities presented to me. There was so many things I could have done to her then, so many ways to hurt the man---the monster she had once been in love with. I could have hurt her, killed her, raped her. Instead I chose the long and slow process of becoming her friend. 

Of course the end goal was always to get in her bed. To have her over and over again, which was a way guaranteed to make Rumplestiltskin suffer far more and for far longer than if I just killed or raped her. Just thinking about his suffering was enough to make me excited at the idea, but it helped that she was beautiful. With long waves of hair a soft brownish color, with eyes the blue color of the sky on a bright summer day, and the sweetest looking lips I had come across in ages, it was no chore I saw before me but a beauty that was meant to be ravished. 

But it would take time, and patience to do this right. She had lost her memories, not her inhibitions and was so wary of the world around her. Basically frightened of it, and of the people that inhabited this town. She hadn't understood that they were trying to protect her, that they thought her too fragile to hear the truth. They hadn't understood that her memories might be gone, but her core strengths remained. That she was smart and resilient, and could handle better the truth than their bad attempts at lying. 

It was their lying, their pathetic attempts at a cover up, that bought me my way into her trust. In their attempt to protect her, they all but drove her into my arms, the man that had hurt her, the man that was the only one who would tell her any bit of the truth. 

But my truth was heavily edited, modified to suit my purposes. It might not have worked, if not for one thing. And that thing was magic, and the fact she had witnessed Rumplestiltskin using it. Those guardians around her, thought her unable to understand, actually went so far as to drug and sedate her. Their methods terrified her as much as the monster did, Rumplestiltskin some kind of freak in her eyes, a demon. 

I couldn't help but be amused, thinking it perfect that the beauty was finally seeing the beast for what he really was. She was absolutely frightened of him, loathed him, woke up screaming at the sight of him. The more she cried and cringed, the more he pursued her, leaving her desperate for an escape of any kind. That desperation was what led her to my room that first night, ducking inside what she hoped would provide an adequate hiding spot. It would be the first night of many, and it wasn't always Rumplestiltskin she had been running from, but the nurses and doctors with their needles. 

They were so quick to drug her. It made her desperation worse, made her cling to any port in a storm, and I was that safe haven. Not only did I believe with total sincerity the stories she told me of seeing Rumplestiltskin use magic, I offered her proof that she wasn't delusional. I had no magic of my own, but I was associated with at least one who did. The Queen of Hearts was all too glad to pay me this favor, the woman generous due to our long and successful partnership. 

A few simple tricks and spells was all that was needed to win my target over. That night I remember well, and not just because she cried. It was the first time I truly got to hold her in my arms, my hand petting over her hair, as she sobbed not with fear but with relief that she wasn't going out of her mind crazy. I remember smiling over her head, telling her she was far from crazy. It was one fear alleviated, but her confirmation of magic's existence served to make her even more desperate and afraid. She was more determined than ever to escape, both the hospital and the people, the staff who would drug her, and the monster who so terrified her. 

And he did terrify her. I didn't help matters by telling her what Rumplestiltskin really was. Hearing about the Dark One, and just some of his many misdeeds was enough to set her off shaking, and that was before I explained he considered her his, and had kept her prisoner for a long, long time. Naturally, this disturbed her, which helped me twist the truth to my advantage. Lying to her, telling her the night she had been shot, was the night she had nearly escaped him. 

Escape would become an obsession with her. The more Rumplestiltskin pushed himself on her, with every kiss, with every attempt to get her to remember, the more she fought. I still laugh to think how she threw that tea cup away from her, how it had smashed apart not just itself, but the last hope of Rumplestiltskin. 

That night with the tea cup was the final straw for her. She begged me to help her, to escape not only him, but the hospital. I was delighted to offer my services, leaping at the chance to cement myself as savior to her. It wasn't easy though, to smuggle her out of the hospital. But somehow we managed, and I remember hearing her laugh for the first time that night. She had spread her arms out, and twirled happily, basking in the moonlight, breathing in the musky night smell. 

There in the moonlight, she had never looked more beautiful. More vibrant and alive. Sometimes I wonder if that single moment, was responsible for the eventual softening of my heart. Certainly I had felt a hard, hot jolt of lust, followed by the regret that I couldn't act on it just yet. I might be her savior, but I was still far from occupying that place in her heart reserved for a lover. 

In some ways I am right back where I started. She won't let me near her, not to talk, and certainly not to touch. I am frustrated by how frightened she is of our feelings. By how she tries to deny the love we have both felt. It's worse now this rejection, because I've experienced first hand what we can have together. That knowledge and the rejection leave me crazed, desperate and most of all determined. Soon I won't be content with just standing in shadows, gazing up at her window. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I feel like I should do a trigger warning for this chapter. Hook gets aggressive in this, and that might be objectionable, upsetting to some. So I guess this counts as molestation warning? 
> 
> \----Michelle

If there's one good thing that can be said about this storm, is that it's raging waters cover over my scent. That wolf friend of hers would be on me in an instant if she knew I was out here, and I don't fancy having to put down a mutt. Especially one with teeth as sharp as hers, and one who holds a dislike for pirates that is as strong as anything I have ever felt for my enemies. 

No, the wolf and I are not friends. She tolerated me once, but that has all changed. I'm sure she's glad for the break up, for the opportunity the wolf thinks it gives her. I've never failed to not notice the way the wolf looks at my bright eyed lass, her adoration and the longing for something more than just friendship. She won't get it, I'll not share Belle with anyone, man or woman. But I can sympathize. Both the wolf and I are longing for something we don't yet have, something we won't share once gotten. 

If I have my way, there's room for only one in Belle's heart, and I mean that one to be me. Of course it's easier said then done, and even harder not to make a further mess of things. But I lose my head when I am around her, all rhyme and reason lost to my desperation. In some ways I am as bad as Rumplestiltskin, pursuing Belle just as hard, just as desperate, just as frantic as he. 

I cringe now to think about some of what I've done, how much more I've succeeded in scaring her off. But I can't always stop myself from going too far, sometimes shouting, sometimes grabbing, always loving, but a lot of times angry. I'm like a wounded animal lashing out, my anger sometimes directed at her. I don't want to be that way, but I lose control the more she refuses me, the more she heaps rejection and heartache at my door. 

It's worse now that I know she loves me. Now that I know she is doing everything she can to avoid it, avoid me. The morning I got the confirmation that she still loved me filled me with the greatest of joy, but also the worst of sorrow. Because she wasn't embracing it, the feelings or me, actively trying to push me away. 

I can't claim I behaved any better than a beast. I'm not even sure what would have happened if we hadn't been interrupted. Would I have done something irredeemable, or would she have at last been made to accept our love? I don't know, and perhaps that not knowing gives me the strength to stay away for just a little longer. 

But I lacked the strength that morning. It had been two days after her curse had broke, and I was reeling as much as she. Out of my mind with grief, desperate to reach her, to explain to her, to make her believe once more, I had broken into the town's library. It was her beloved sanctuary, her world away from the town's troubles and even her own. Here among the stacks, she'd lose herself often, letting the printed words of her books distract her from all manner of problems. 

I took that from her, violated her cherished safe place. I broke in through the back, and lay in wait among the stacks. Hours would pass, before she would arrive, the single beam of sunlight in my cold, dark world. It was a light I needed, a warmth I cherished. It took every last strength of will to remain hidden, to not dart out and grab her right away. But I stayed my hand, just watching her as she moved about the front of the library. Pulling open curtains, flooding the main room with sunlight, picking up books, and rifling through them in a distracted manner. 

She's always been quick to lose herself in a book, but that morning she had been visibly tense. Clearly agitated and on edge, jumping at the slightest of sounds, so that even her books could offer her no solace. I would only make things worse, I knew that, and yet I remained rooted to the spot. Watching her from the stacks, biding my time. Waiting for her to disappear into them, to be away from the door, the windows, and any chance of someone seeing. 

It wasn't my intent to hurt her. I truly just wanted to talk. To explain myself, explain how I had true feelings for her, and how I would do anything for a chance to prove myself to her. But that close to her, I was afraid. Of her rejection, and of the possibility that she remembered nothing of our love. I needed comfort, and I needed her reassurance, but those were things not easily found. Especially when she panicked at the sight of me, spinning on her heels to make a break for the main room and it's doors. 

I had chased her once before, and in this very same place. But the stakes were much higher now, I was serious in my intent, when before I had only been using her as a lure. That time she had managed to evade me, but this time? This time I was quicker, catching her around the waist, then hauling her struggling form up against me. Her pitiful cries broke the quiet of the library, and then I was kissing her. 

The desperation was in my kiss, as if this was my one and only chance to make an impression on her. She had locked up in my arms, not so much as squirming, as if she would deny me even the pleasure of that. It was like holding a statue, albeit a living, breathing, beautiful one. I didn't want this stiff board of a woman, I wanted me beloved Belle, needed her rubbing her body against mine, kissing me back, twining fingers through my hair. 

I set out to get just that, to melt away her resistance. I gentled my kiss, curbed my desperation, and slowly made love to her mouth. No longer did press down so hard with my lips, no longer was I frantic. Instead I was downright leisurely, at times my lips as soft as a butterfly's wings against hers. When I felt her shiver, that was when I began to fit our mouths more firmly together. 

By the time my tongue began licking insistently at the seam of her lips, she had been shaking, practically unable to stand if not for the support I offered her. It was very much a swoon, her lips at last parting, allowing me a taste of sweet heaven inside. I hadn't hesitated, effortlessly gliding my tongue to dip inside. My spirits soared, my hope rose, when I had felt her uncertain push against my tongue, and then she was kissing me, and it was better than anything I had remembered. 

But it was tainted. Her surrender brief, and distressing to her. She hadn't wanted to kiss me back, she hadn't wanted to feel anything in my arms. She was still coming to grips with the memories, with all that had happened. She was confused, conflicted, and I wasn't helping. But I was too far gone to the sensation, too immersed in the experience of her kiss, to notice anything was amiss. Certainly I hadn't noticed then that she was crying, that tears had began to glisten at the corner of her eyes, even as she kissed me. 

Instead I was too focused on my own desires, on the relief I was feeling, convinced her kiss was a sign that she loved and accepted me back. I wanted to shout from the roof tops, laugh in triumph, and most of all I wanted to make love to her. And so I tried to take the kissing to it's next natural progression, taking advantage of her swoon to lower us to the floor. I should have contented myself with just holding her, should have made the embrace one of comfort rather than one about sex. But I needed that connection, as if the love making would make all our problems go away. I needed her, and in the worst way, needed to go further to prove our love and commitment to each other. 

By the time I lay over her, I had noticed her tears. I remember touching her face with my hand shaking, fingers brushing one cheek, while my lips caressed over the other. I tried to kiss away her tears, tried to let that gentle, loving act soothe and reassure her. And that is when she kicked me, her knee's aim striking true. My eyes actually crossed from the pain, and I then collapsed onto her with a groan. It left her struggling to get free of me, but eventually she succeeded. Wriggling free, then darting upright, she went tearing off to the front of the library. 

It would take me a few seconds to do more than mewl in pain, but eventually I would force myself to ignore the worst of it. I'd half stumble after her, and snag hold of her arm just as she made it out of the stacks. There were people passing by, but I paid them no attention. I was too busy hauling her back, pushing her none too gently up against a shelving unit of books. She was crying harder, and looked terrified, her skin pale, her eyes red and frightened. 

I remember raging at her, all but snarling in her face. Angry and hurt and most of all bewildered, not understanding ANY of it. Why she cried, why she fought me, why she would kiss me and pretend she didn't want it. I remember her screaming back at me, shaking and traumatized, vainly trying to push at my chest to shove me away from her. I refused to move, keeping her trapped between me and the book case, demanding answers. I wanted more than just answers, I wanted to kiss her, and I wanted a reaction that was something other than terror and tears. 

My pain and anger had transformed me in that moment from something more than just a man in love and desperate. I became a brute, a bully, and I began painting out the details of our association in the most lewdest of ways. Even as she begged me to stop it, I persisted, telling her in vivid description of the first time we had made love. I ended up telling her how she had loved it, loved me, how wet and tight her body had been. I taunted her with the knowledge that I had made her howl with pleasure, that her toes had curled, and how she had scored my back repeatedly with her nails. 

She closed her eyes tight at that, her face gaining the color of her mortified blush. But she hadn't once tried to deny it, save to gasp out a no when I had began talking just as rudely about what I wanted to do to her now. I knew her sexual weaknesses, knew every spot on her body that made her shiver and scream. I knew how to take her breath away, and knew how to make her climax on the spot. 

I was filthy, telling her how I wanted to put my mouth on her. Telling her I wanted to rip apart her tights, and fall to my knees in worship. Saying how I wanted to dig my tongue in, how I wanted to partake in the nectar of her body, get drunk on it and on her. It was cruel, and I succeeded in tormenting not only her, but myself. The more I talked, the more the breath hitched in my throat, my mouth hungering for a taste. I remember cruelly rubbing my aroused state in her face, pressing the hot hard length of me against her body, and wanting to do more. 

But even as I wanted more, I knew I was going too far. And yet I couldn't stop tormenting her, telling her things that had her screaming, begging me to stop. She didn't want to hear that I knew what she looked like writing in ecstasy, and that I remembered the specific sounds she had made when I was buried deep inside her. Most of all, she didn't want me reminding her of the promises she had made, of the love she had spoken of feeling for me. To know that she had told me again and again that she loved me? Perhaps that was the most distressing of all. 

I would change my tactics with her, though I was no less calm and rational then before. I began kissing all over her face, touching every where but her lips. On her cheeks, her forehead, the corners of her mouth, even over the shut lids of her eyes. I kissed there repeatedly, before bringing my lips to her ear, and speaking firmly, devotedly of how much I love her. 

She stood there shaking, breath coming out in short gasps that were practically sobs. At some point I began begging forgiveness, whispering apologies in her ear, asking her to get over what I had done, pleading with her to give us both a second chance. When finally I looked at her, I saw the pain in her eyes, the tortured expression she wore. Bust I also saw a glimmer of something else, something I didn't dare hope over without spoken confirmation from her. 

And then that damn wolf friend of hers had burst through the doors. Someone from the streets had alerted her to Belle's distress, and the wolf was livid to see me there cornering her friend. She actually attacked me, and though she was female, she was also a wolf which gave her the strength and advantage to kick my ass. I think she would have KILLED me then and there, and I was almost ready to let her. Life simply wasn't worth living without my beloved Belle, and I was sure my actions of that day had ruined all chance of us ever reuniting. 

Sometimes I still think that reunion is impossible. But then I remember my hope, the way Belle had more than sparked it to life. It was her screams that had stopped Ruby from ripping out my throat. Her heart felt pleas that got the wolf to reluctantly leave me be. The wolf hadn't liked it, and had actually growled in frustration when I made eye contact with her friend. 

Why was the word I'd utter, and her response would be to cry harder. Her helpless shrugging of her shoulders didn't have me buy for one second that she didn't understand what she had done. I knew that she knew her interference with the wolf's intent had ben the proof I had been looking for, the proof that she still loved me even if Belle couldn't say it with actual words. 

Even as the wolf growled and snarled, I shared a meaningful look with my Belle. Telling her that this wasn't over, that I would be in touch, I hadn't yet realized how much harder Belle would make it to see her, that she would go to such extreme lengths to hide from me, that she would even shut down her beloved library. 

But I wouldn't be deterred that easily, no matter the roadblock. The wolf, and Belle herself can do all they want to try and stop me, but a pirate has ways of getting what he wants. And once it's had, a pirate never ever lets go. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued!


	4. Four

Every second apart from her is pure hell. There's no meaning to my life, no reason to get up if she is not there, and not a part of my every day life. This miserable state of being is a heart break I hadn't been prepared to go through the first time, yet alone the second. And yet here I am, hurting and heart sick, desperate and drowning, needing Belle but not having her. 

It is not from a lack of trying. Two days after our disastrous meeting in her library, Belle would finally dare to step outside Granny's home. I would spot her immediately from my hiding spot of several blocks away, thanks hugely in part to my looking glass that had never diverted it's gaze from that building. Now I would be locked onto Belle, and I would watch her every jittery, nervous step, the woman having been supremely paranoid and casting her frightened gaze in the direction of every little noise. 

Maybe she wouldn't have been so on edge if someone had accompanied her. But the wolf had been nowhere to be found, and Granny had been busy running her shift at the diner. It was circumstances I couldn't have hoped to better, Belle alone and walking hurriedly down the street in my direction. 

It was exactly what I had hoped for, but my heart still gave a nervous flutter. I had been as scared as I had been excited, and it was feelings that would lead me to be unpredictable if I couldn't master them. I had had to get control of myself, or risk another scene just like the one I had caused in her library two days prior. 

Controlling myself when she was in reach was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It was right up there with losing Mila, the struggle to behave going against my every instinct and desire to grab her and kiss her. But somehow I managed, though just barely, Belle passing by my hiding spot completely unaware and unmolested. 

I'd count twenty seconds, and then begin trailing her. My heart would beat like a hammer in my chest, my eyes glued to her back. I nearly moaned then, appreciating the swing of her hips as she grew more confidant on this excursion. For the longer she went without seeing me, the more Belle would relax, to the point she stopped jumping at every sound, and actually paused to say hello to several people. 

Those people I was jealous of, possessive of Belle, and of the smiles she had so freely given out. I didn't want to share any of her, not even the curving of her lips. I was a man possessed, ready to cart her away, envious of those who received her warmth, vowing to keep it, keep her all to myself. 

I understand it's a completely irrational way to behave. That I'm unhealthy to think this way, to be this possessive. But I've had love taken from me before, had my heart break so completely that I had lived for nothing but my revenge. Until her, until Belle. She had breathed true love back into me, brought warmth and joy, and most of all laughter back into my life. Together, I had learned to be happy, to let go of the past that had tormented me so. I had moved on from my first love, finally realizing that three hundred years was too long to mourn. Belle broke me out of my grief, made me look forward to what the future could hold for me, for us. 

She gave me so much, and in one night it all went away. I couldn't, wouldn't accept it. I refused to lose her, refused to not fight for us. I was determined to piece together the happy ever after we had started on, whether she wanted it or not. But I didn't truly believe Belle wanted nothing to do with me. Especially after that morning in the library, when she had called off her friend the wolf. That one act had done everything to give me hope in a world that had seemed without it, and I wouldn't let go. 

Determined to build on that hope, I would continue to stalk Belle. I'd follow her through the busy main street, until she would finally choose a shop to enter. And then I would follow her inside, covertly stalking her through the aisles and aisles of food. She'd wander but with purpose, adding certain things to her metal cart. So love sick was I, that I enjoyed just the act of watching her do this, but soon it wasn't enough. Soon I could no longer just hang back and stare, I needed to be near her, to smell her, to actually talk to her. 

I wanted to do more than just talk, but I tried to control myself. Yearning for any contact, even just the touch of her hand, I had snuck up behind her. I had been so tempted to stroke my fingers through her hair, so tempted to lean in to smell her. Instead I had reached for the very fruit she was inspecting, my hand snatching the round grapefruit away from her. 

She'd stiffen immediately, having recognized the rings on the hand that had stolen the fruit out from under her. I wouldn't say hello in the normal fashion, instead practicing a calm I didn't feel, as I would use my hook to peel apart the grapefruit. It's rich tangy scent had filled the air, the grapefruit sliced apart to reveal it's tasty inner flesh. 

Holding it out to her, I began speaking quietly about the first time we had shared such a treat. How the juice had dripped down our chins, how she had delighted in watching the drops catch and shine in my chin scruff. How she had said it was the best thing she could ever remember tasting, and then had laughed because that wasn't saying much given her amnesia. 

Belle would turn slowly to me, and actually take the grapefruit from my hand. She wouldn't try to eat any of it, though she would gaze down at it with a sad expression. She'd then tell me that she remembered that night, causing my heart to surge with hope. I'd try to remain calm, asking her what exactly did she remember. 

Again that sad expression, Belle having looked at me with troubled eyes. She would tell me it was the night a great weight had been lifted from her, that it was the night I had first taken her from the hospital. We both remembered how happy she had been that night, in her blue dotted hospital gown. Carrying herself off like a finely dressed princess, practically dancing on air. Her happiness had been infectious, though I hadn't been ready to dance. Instead I had kept her grounded, her hold on my arm keeping her from floating away with her excitement over finally being free. 

That night on the streets, I'd steal for her. It wasn't much, just some fruit from a stand. But she had delighted in it all the same, as though I could do no wrong in her eyes, even when committing a crime. That delight wasn't in her eyes as she told me this, her voice going flat as she dropped the grapefruit and let is smash on the floor. She'd tell me more wrongs had been committed than just the stealing of fruit. Hurt in her eyes, she would accused me of lying to her. Of using her. Wondering if any of it had been real, wondering if I wasn't still playing some sick game with her. 

I had panicked to hear her accusations, the denials falling fervently from my lips. I had begged her to believe me, to give me a chance to prove what we had was real. I went so far as to tell her that I love her, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Belle was simply too determined that day to twist everything, to make it all about my revenge. I suppose she thought it was less painful that way, than to believe in our love. 

She'd openly begin crying when I desperately began bringing up more memories, the cherished moments we had spent together, slowly learning to love each other. I tried to make her see that at some point it had stopped being about my revenge, that I had fallen hopelessly, helplessly, irreversible in love with her. She would stand there shaking her head no, but even as I had panicked and fought for her, I had noted her misery. She had looked very much like someone whose heart was breaking, whose love had been shattered. She had looked like I felt, the two of us united even in our misery. 

So badly did I want to comfort her. So badly did I want her to reassure me. Neither thing seemed capable of happening, especially then in the store, where a curious crowd was in the midst of gathering. I would then take Belle by the arm, highly encouraged when she didn't outright pull away. I wouldn't ask, I would just lead, depending on her to trust me enough to follow without protest. 

She did, a fact that would have had me grinning, if not for the fact she was quietly weeping. I couldn't ignore those tears, those glistening drops like shards of glass slicing into my heart. I'd take her from the store, but only as far as the nearest street bench. And there I would sit us both down, not caring who stopped and stared, so long as my arms were around her and I was able to comfort her in some way. 

I like to think she allowed it as much for the familiar sensation of my strong arms around her, as she did for the fact I hadn't tried to take her somewhere more private. She had felt safe on the street, safe with so many people around us. I wanted her to feel safe with ME, but then how could she, especially after what had been attempted in her safe haven, the library. I had violated her trust, abused her, even terrified her to the point she was jumping at noise, afraid to leave Granny's house. And when she had finally had the courage to try to live her life, I was there, so quick and ready to remind her of everything she had wanted to forget. 

If I was a different man, a good man, maybe I would have been able to leave her alone. Maybe if I hadn't loved her with every last beat of my heart, I would have been able to let go of her, of us. But I wasn't, and my love only grew stronger as I turned more desperate with each passing day. Possessive under normal circumstances, now that I stood on the precipice of losing her, my love became something sinister. 

I needed her, and it drove me. Made me obsessed with having her. I'm not just talking in a sexual manner. I wanted all of her, from her keen intellect, to her lively conversation, to even the fierceness of her temper when aroused. I wanted the everyday things with her, to wander Stroybrooke with her, or to sail it's harbor. I wanted the camaraderie, the special smiles, to sit back and just enjoy watching her as she read through one of her many favorite books. I wanted her warmth for my own, to be able to freely touch her hair, to make her smile, to make her moan. 

Instead all I seemed capable of causing her was tears. A part of me was relieved I could still make her feel anything at all, but I wasn't truly happy this way. Neither was she, Belle struggling with her memories and the cause of her distress. I should have given her time to cope, but I feared the conclusions she would draw on her own. I felt I needed to be a constant presence in her life, to be there to reassure her, to remind her of my---our love. I needed to make her believe in us, needed to get her to trust in me and in the love that I felt so strongly. 

It was with that goal in mind, that I would bring forth another cherished memory. I'd whisper it into her hair, my voice quiet enough that she had had to really stop and focus to make out my words. But she had listened, with only the occasional sniffle and shuddered breath to interrupt me. 

I had talked of the night I had taught her a sea captain's most guarded and most important skill. The secret to navigating by the stars, so that she would always be able to find her way home, no matter how lost she might feel. Just as I had then, I marveled at the one constant in all the realms, how the stars were always the same, so many different worlds living united under one sky. 

That night she had had many questions for me, but then it wasn't often that she tried to curb her curiosity. That night she had been brimming with it, curious about the other worlds, the places I had been, the places I might go. She had enjoyed the open honesty I treated her to, how I never tried to hide where I was really from, or the magic that was part of it's nature. She had been fascinated by the land of fairytales and magic, intrigued by the wonders of Wonderland, and amazed by the time defying powers of Neverland. She had been adorable that night, so cutely flabbergasted when I had told her that she too had defied time for roughly twenty eight years. 

That night, was the night I fully delved into the Evil Queen's curse, teaching her the history of how Storybrooke had come into existence. Except for a few minor twists in truth, I had left nothing out, a fact my enrapt audience of one had appreciated. It wasn't often I got to see her so quiet, but Belle would recover quick enough to delude me with questions. 

I recounted how I had laughed that night, teasing her with the promise that I wasn't going anywhere, that there would be time for more lessons to verse her in our realm's storied history. She had pouted cutely then, eager to know it all, but made to understand that even an abbreviated form would take several nights to tell. 

I had smiled against her hair, but it had been tinted with sadness. Because that night I had felt like Belle and I had all the time in the world for all the stories and adventures we could have ever wanted to experience. But there on that street bench, I wasn't so certain, our future in doubt, US in doubt. I had needed reassurance, I had needed her, and on impulse I had asked her to come with me to my ship. 

"Let me show you the stars." I had said to her, and Belle had calmly pointed out that it wasn't the right time of day to even hope of seeing them. A bit mischievous, I had teased her that it wasn't day time everywhere all at once in this world. That I had ship that could not only sail the seas, it could soar the very skies, the possibilities endless for us. 

I had then given her my most charming smile, my eyes alight with excitement and adventure and hope. She just had to say yes, she had too! One single word that would lead to an important break through for our healing, and all she needed to do was agree. 

Of course she wouldn't. Nothing in life worth having is ever that easy, and the woman that I love was no different. Of course I hadn't help matters, perhaps too conveniently forgetting she was still bound by Storybrooke's curse. She hadn't forgotten, fearing I had meant to curse her into losing herself once more. 

I swear now that that wasn't my intent, but a part of me at her accusation, had silently wondered if the curse might not be the only way to truly get her back. She'd forget me, the memories we had made together, but then she would also forget her fear of me. I knew we would be able to start over then, but I wasn't desperate enough to want to hurt her in that way. Even now I still don't want to resort to such an extreme measure, though the temptation of it will always still exist. 

That day she had read the temptation of it in my eyes, Belle abruptly trying to struggle free of my arms. For one lingering moment, I had held on, before reluctantly allowing her to slip free. But though I had freed her of my arms, I hadn't freed her from my pleas, my voice almost breaking as I had begged her to please wait. 

She would pause, though she kept from looking at me directly. I can remember scrubbing my hand over my face in an agitated betrayal of my feelings. I would then ask her to come back with me to my ship, that we didn't have to go anywhere, or do anything but talk. I barely got the words out before she was shaking her head no, before Belle was telling me there was nothing left to talk about. I would protest that there was everything, that we needed to sort out her feelings, that I would help her come to grips with the love she had for me. 

She had turned on me then with a broken sound, vehemently insisting that she didn't love me. I had countered back that she did, that she wouldn't be hurting this much if she didn't have genuine feelings for me. We began to argue, our love and happiness at stake on the outcome. I meant to win, and not just the argument, but to win her back in my life. She tried to frustrate me at every turn, and at my most wounded I had brought up Rumplestiltskin and the fact that she had yet to return to him. 

Belle had paled then, and I had stepped closer, moving in for the kill. Telling her that if she truly felt nothing for me, then she would have already reunited with that monster. I felt closer to victory when she hadn't bother to protest that he wasn't a monster, but Belle had not yet been defeated. 

"I haven't gone back to him because I am ashamed." 

That quiet admittance, had left me reeling, as though she had slapped me. I couldn't imagine what there was for her to be ashamed about, didn't want to think it was our love that had made her feel like that, that I made her feel like that. 

"You're lying." I had accused. "Love is never something to be ashamed of." 

"It is when it is with the wrong person." Belle had said in retort. Again it felt as though I had been slapped, and I had reached out to grab her. She would fight me, twisting so that I could only get hold of her arm. The fact that she would struggle right after saying such a thing made me lose all rhyme and reason, causing me to shake her in my fit of anger. 

I can't even remember what I said next, that was how angry I had been. But I remember the look on her face, the wounded tears, and her near violent attempt to get her arm free of my hand. It was that precise moment that HE walked by, Rumplestiltskin pausing to offer her his assistance. It had just made me angrier, and I lashed out at him. Or I had tried to at any rate, his magic stopping me in my tracks. Rumplestiltskin had smirked at me, then turned to talk to Belle, but she had merely shook her head before taking off running. 

Rumplestiltskin would be bothered by that, and would turn to take it out on me. I had been all smiles, despite what he could have done to me. My happiness was all because Belle hadn't stuck around, hadn't stayed to talk to him. In fact she had barely acknowledged him, barely looked his way and I refused to believe it had to do with that ashamed feeling she had tried to lay claim to. Her love had distorted, I was sure of it, the months Belle had spent with me changing her, her desires, and her needs. She couldn't go back, not to him, and not to that chaste relationship that he had insisted upon. 

Perhaps it was cocky of me to think the months we had spent together had left so permanent a mark on her heart. Maybe I was too confidant in what I thought was my appeal, too certain of my ability to charm even her. I was sure I could wear her down, that I could breech all her defenses, and win her back. I should have left her alone and given her some time, but I simply loved her too much to do even that. 

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To Be Continued...!


	5. Five

She's always on my mind, the thoughts of her occupying me, be they conscious or dreaming. I am haunted by her, by my hopes for our future, but also by the memories of our past. They torment me, mock me, the details painting a vivid picture of what my lies and manipulations may have cost me. Belle, her smiles, her warmth, and most of all her love. The idea of not having those things from her is devastating, but its worse to think of never having her at all. This need I have for her is worse than any drug, my happiness, my sanity, even my life dependant on a decision that I recognize should ultimately be hers. 

But I won't allow her to make it, not so long as there is the slightest chance she'll decide against me. I have no life without her, no future worth speaking of. The idea of letting go, of picking up the pieces of another heart break is more than I can tolerate. I can't move on, and I won't allow her to do the same. Even if I have to steal her away, and let what's left of my morals fade away, I will have her in my life again. 

I don't want it to come to this. I don't want to have to force her to be with me. That way is sick, and painful, and guaranteed to kill the light in her eyes. Yes, that way I'd have her, but it would be a mockery of our love, distorting it and each other until nothing was left of us but shells of what we had once been. 

In a lot of ways I've already broken down. I cling to what's right but barely, and cling to it solely for her sake, while a voice inside me wants to drag Belle down. Better to have her whatever way I can, that voice whispers seductively, then to lose her forever. It's a voice I've often listened to in the past, the devil on my shoulder who is responsible for every bad decision I've ever made. It is my desires and temptations, my worst impulses made real. It's every terrible thought I've ever entertained, and in a life as long lived as mine, there has been many. 

It's not often I choose against what will lead me to immediate gratification. I am a pirate, and a man used to satisfying every one of my needs. But for her sake, I fight, and maybe, just maybe I fight for the man her love could make me be. 

He's a man I had once almost started to become, a man who I had let glimmers of emerge amidst my hard exterior, my ruthless nature. It had softened but not weakened me, allowed me to finally move past my grief, and had let love and laughter into my heart. The man I had started to become had been able to hope and dream, had been able to set aside vengeance in favor of a future. With that future in jeopardy, that gentler Hook was fading, replaced by a pirate that was rough, ruthless, and most of all dangerous. 

But it was still a Hook that was different from who I had once been before. The Hook I had been just a few months earlier, had hungered only for revenge. He had hurt, lied, and manipulated to get what he wanted, only to end up blind sided by Belle. By that genuine love of hers. That love had been my salvation, but was also poised to be my ruin, the loss of it leaving me crazed and unpredictable at the best of times. 

It didn't help that she was avoiding me, that she had stopped leaving the house completely. I wasn't content to glimpse her from afar. I needed to hear her voice, feel her warmth, and to touch her. But that wasn't possible, so long as she remained in close proximity to the wolf. I truly began to hate Ruby for her constant interference. An interference she had offered right from the start, using her superior sense of smell to track us down time and time again. 

That first time, it hadn't even been a full twenty four hours since I had helped Belle to escape from the hospital. But there in the park she had been, Ruby with a grim glower on her face leading the town's sheriff towards us. Both the wolf and the blonde had been glaring, angry over what I had done, and disapproving of the trust Belle had been showing me. 

Belle would take one look at the approaching pair, and then would whisper a plea to me. 

"Don't let them take me back to that awful place." 

In response I would move to place her behind me, playing my part of protector with a confidence I did not feel. I hadn't expected to be found this soon, hadn't known she had a wolf for a friend. Nor had I liked the fact that once again the sheriff had involved herself into my affairs, and most of I hadn't a clue how to stop them without someone dying. 

The wolf and the sheriff had had similar concerns, the pair not liking how close Belle had kept to me. She had practically been clinging to my coat sleeve, wide eyed, frightened and not at all reassured by the wolf's concern. The wolf had looked at Belle, who had still been dressed in her blue dotted hospital gown, with a flimsy pair of matching slippers, and had freaked, accusing me of not caring if Belle caught a cold from running around dressed like that. 

"But then...." Ruby had bitterly added. "It's not as though you care at all." 

"Killian." I had then heard Belle softly, uncertainly say. "What does she mean?" 

"Trust me." I would whisper, reminding her of how I had told her nothing but the truth. A truth Ruby and the others would have hidden from her indefinitely. That reminder had been as good as gold, bolstering Belle's mistrust of the wolf and the sheriff. They could have told her anything then, and she would have accused them of being the liars. 

It didn't help that I took a self righteous stance, indignant on Belle's behalf over the truth being kept from her. Ruby and the sheriff would exchange looks, then the blonde would cautiously demand for an explanation as to what I meant. 

"I know!" Belle would say in a strong voice, clinging firmly to my arm. "I know about magic, about the curse, about the dark one, about everything." 

They'd then try to explain they had only been looking out for her best interests, that they hadn't wanted to traumatize her after the bad reactions she had had in response to Rumplestiltskin's use of magic. Her voce would get louder with her agitation, Belle yelling that that concern didn't justify them drugging her. 

At that point they had turned pleading, begging Belle to step away from me. She would shake her head no, insist that she wasn't going anywhere without me, and that she certainly wasn't going back to the hospital. It was a bold stand, but the sheriff and the wolf weren't about to let this go in my favor. I would be arrested, forced into the indignity of handcuffs for the third time in my life. Belle would also be taken into custody, and ultimately brought back to the hospital where Rumplestiltskin was waiting. 

She would react badly to the sight of him, outright panicking and having to be sedated for her examination. I think they would have kept her in a constant drugged state so long as she was cursed, but the sheriff had intervened. The blonde haired woman might not have liked me, or what she had suspected I intended to do, but she had also known it wasn't right to keep plying Belle with sedatives and drugs. 

Especially with her future so uncertain, the curse supposedly unbreakable. Just as it wasn't right to keep on drugging her, the sheriff had also argued against keeping Belle a veritable prisoner of the hospital. The question then became about what to do with her, how to keep her safe, and most of all who should be granted guardianship over the confused young woman. 

Rumplestiltskin had wanted to be the one whose care Belle was released to. But even he had had to acknowledge how bad an idea that was, given how frightened she was of him, how much just the mere thought of him disturbed her. I myself was completely out of the question in the eyes of all others. They didn't trust me as far as they could throw me, and were determined to thwart my schemes at every step. A pity for them that Belle would refuse to listen to their warnings, their earlier lies and covering of the truth now working against them so completely to my favor. 

She wouldn't listen to their warnings, wouldn't take the truth about me as fact. Belle thought them minions of the Dark One, intent on delivering her into his care through any means. The more they tried to make her understand that I hadn't been entirely truthful, the more she would accuse THEM of the deceit. I had more than earned her trust, Belle putting herself in my power as completely as they would allow. 

But it wasn't all smooth sailing. The guardianship still needed to be decided, and of course Belle was still a ways from being in love with me. Whoever stood poised to take her into their protective custody might have put an end to my plans, and indeed they would have if not for the stubborn streak Belle had exhibited. Determined to thwart her guardians at every step of the way, Belle insisted on seeing me, going so far as to sneak out of the house on a near daily basis. 

I was always there waiting for her, all smiles and charm. We'd have grand adventures exploring Storybrooke, stealing every second of time that we could, before the wolf would come searching. Ruby, having volunteered herself and Granny for the task, took her position as Belle's guardian to the heart. She was determined to impede me every step of the way, and it would take a blind man to not see that the wolf was harboring a secret crush of her own. 

But she couldn't watch Belle every hour of every day. Ruby had a life to lead, and a job that demanded a fair share of her time. Belle and I took advantage of Ruby's shifts at the diner, to run off often together, and slowly but surely I began to see more than just Belle's outer beauty, but the qualities that had made so many fall in love with her. That kind and giving heart, her smart mind, her quick wit. Both her playful side and her inquisitive nature, and the easy way we fell into talking. Those were just a few of the things I had begun to appreciate in her, and it wasn't long before I began to look forward to seeing Belle simply for the joy of her company, and not because she represented a revenge that was on it's way to succeeding. 

With her by my side, I began to enjoy myself and life. When I laughed, I realized it was genuine, that I wasn't faking my amusement. I took joy in our conversations, the lively discussions, and the verbal teasing and flirtations. I began looking forward to every time I could make her blush, to every touch I could steal, but most of all I enjoyed how I could fascinate her with the stories I had to tell. When I talked about my life, the adventures I had had, the places I had been, I became the only thing Belle could see, her eyes solely for me as they shined with warmth and something that was close to adoration. 

Of course I wanted more than that. But I never tried to rush things. As much as I wanted to bed her, I was enjoying the courtship, the slow pursuit of her. I enjoyed our excursions, the dates all around Storybrooke, a town in a land that was as foreign to me as our home world was to her. The modern nuances of Storybrooke intrigued me, the wonders there seeming like a kind of magic. Belle delighted in my reactions to the simplest of things, and she enjoyed watching me discover things like the television or any number of appliances and gadgets, including the stereo. 

I remember how she encouraged me to play with the stereo's buttons, practically falling off the couch giggling when I had jumped back in alarm at the loud blaring of sudden sound. I would chase her around it once I recovered from my shock, and once she was caught in my arms, I would press in so close that she would close her eyes for a kiss. It was almost too perfect a moment, and the kiss was something I had been impatient for from the start. But I didn't give it to her, instead tickling her as punishment for the laugh she had had at my expense. 

I remember how she had gasped, her eyes snapping open with shock. And then she would push at me, trying to get away, twisting and turning, and then trying to tickle me back until we both ended up falling onto the couch. Breathless and still giggling, it was then that I kissed her, the merest brushing of our lips together. I meant it to be chaste, just a slight testing of the waters, but she surprised me again by grabbing for the kiss with all her heart. 

All laughter had subsided, the two of us reacting to the kiss with raw, needy hunger. The way she had ate at my lips, kissing and nibbling, thrusting with her tongue, spoke of how badly Belle had wanted this. Nearly as badly as I had, our tongues practically dueling for dominance, as we both had tried to be in control of the kiss. 

For a first kiss it had been spectacular, and I could have sworn fireworks had gone off in my ears because of it. I am not at all ashamed to admit I had felt staggered by it, by her, and a part of me had bolted with the panic that this moment might have meant more to me than just vengeance. 

It was a vengeance I didn't yet know how to let go of. But my thirst for it wasn't as strong as it once had been, Belle having began to work her way into both my heart and mind. She had brought with her a light, a glimmer of something more. I can't say I had the courage just then to put aside my vengeance, and those unexpected feelings left me frozen in uncertainty. Just the fact that I was hesitating? It would leave me questioning what I really wanted, and at what cost. 

That day on the couch it was I who drew back from the kiss. My heart had beat like a drum, and my lips had tingled still with Belle's warmth. I wanted to take things farther, but my confusion had me balking. I think I would have been running scared, if not for her hand gripping my arm. Her strength and certainty was the grounding force I needed, Belle convincing me to relax besides her not with kisses but with her words. Telling me how much she had appreciated my company, my friendship and my loyalty. She was clear to make it understood that the kiss wasn't motivated by gratitude on her part. That she was attracted to me and had wanted it, and from me. It was everything I could have wanted to hear, but instead of striving for vengeance, I attempted to respect her and the unexpected, unwanted feelings I had begun to develop for her. 

That day we only kissed, and perhaps that was the strongest sign of how fast and how far I had fallen. I should have been taken advantage of her, should have pushed for more than just the kisses. But I had such a sudden conflict of conscious that I didn't want to enter into a sexual relationship with her. Not until I knew where I stood, whether I could master these feelings or be made the fool because of them. 

I didn't know it then, but it was a losing battle. Belle had already gotten into my system, and those feelings wouldn't go away, I was HERS and I didn't even know it yet, my vengeance falling to the side what would become an ardent pursuit of her heart. 

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To Be Continued...


	6. Six

The days that followed that first kiss are a confusing jumble of conflicting emotions. I was elated, I was angry, hopes felt and then dashed, as I ran the gamut of feelings all centered on Belle and my quest for vengeance. Happiness, fear, even guilt, I think I experienced just about everything possible those first days after our kiss. It was a kiss that had turned my world upside down, and even there I was conflicted, both liking and hating the way it had made me feel. It wasn't supposed to be like this, love wasn't even supposed to be possible for me, a man who had lived for roughly three hundred years hungering for vengeance. 

Now I hungered for something else. I looked at Belle and saw not just the chance for revenge, but a chance for something more. For something I hadn't dared believe in the second chance of. Love. It had me running scared, fearing it's power, fearing it's ability to devastate me once more. I was so afraid of being hurt, of the chance of losing another, of losing myself as a result too. 

I'm not a man afraid of much, but the idea of loving another, and then losing HER? It left me terrified. I had already been through so much, so much heart ache and grief, that the loss of my first love had nearly destroyed me. I couldn't stomach the idea of going through that kind of pain and devastation again. I still can't, which is a huge part of why I haven't been able to leave her alone. 

Maybe I should have done exactly that the instant I realized what was happening. Maybe I should have run as fast and as far as my legs would take me, but then can anything outrun the desires of a newly awakened heart? 

It's not a question I can answer. I was and still am a weak man, prone to going after what I want. And what I wanted was Belle, and in ways I hadn't anticipated, her beauty and body becoming secondary to the feelings she stirred in me. Because of her I felt joy, I had learned how to laugh again, felt stimulated by our conversations. I looked forward to each new day, wanting to impress and please her, needing to spark the delight in her eyes. I found myself wanting to do things for her with no greater gain that the fact it would make Belle smile. Her interests were mine, books no longer half as boring when she was reading them out loud to me. 

I was finally slowing down to enjoy life, and it was because of her. I was no longer consumed with that obsessive need for revenge, instead living, breathing, waking for something other than vengeance. And I didn't know how it had happened, how any of it had come to be, love blind siding me in a way that was different from how it had been with Mila. 

It was no less for that difference, the attraction having been built up slowly, the two of us friends first before we would become lovers. With Mila, there had been no time for slow courtships, we had wanted and gone for each other, her marriage be damned. My relationship with Mila had been a sexual one first and foremost, but with Belle it was a meeting of the minds as well as the heart, the sex just one of the ways we could and would express our love for one another. 

But it wasn't a step I had been ready for, simply too shaken by that kiss. By the feelings that arose from it, by the realization I was having that Belle had come to mean as much if not more to me than vengeance. I had to weigh carefully what I really wanted, wondering if it was even possible to cast aside the vengeance I had sought after for a love that could be healing. 

For three hundred years I had been chasing after that vengeance, looking to my revenge to fill the ache in my heart. That vengeance had colored everything I had done leading up to this point, but ultimately I would realize I couldn't allow it to taint my relationship with Belle. Not any more than it already had. I would let go, and with it a weight would be lifted from my shoulders, a chance at a future finally in reach. 

It was a future I grabbed for with all I was worth, finding not only love, but peace and acceptance and happiness in Belle's arms. I began to believe, to hope and dream, and most of all make plans with her. From the day to day concerns, to something infinitely longer lasting, I wanted it do it all with her. From sailing the seas, to settling down, to having children one day, the possibilities were endless, and it didn't matter what world they happened in. Just so long as we were together. 

For Belle I could and would do anything, even stop my pirating ways. I was ready to give up who I had once been, ready to make myself over on the off chance it would make me worthy of her love. I had already taken the steps, becoming in truth much of what I had once had to pretend to be, laughter coming easy to me, my thoughts no longer scheming and malicious. I didn't change so much as I was transformed by love, becoming a nicer, happier person. 

Freed by that love, I no longer had to plot carefully my every action and word. My schemes and manipulations were thrust aside, life no longer a series of events that had to be planned with a single goal in mind. Instead of vengeance, it was about living, about enjoying life to it's fullest at her side. 

It was a dream I was living, this peaceful, idyllic and loving time. I felt secure in my happiness, certain in the curse. I never dreamt it would be broken, that anything could really happen to shatter my newfound joy. I didn't even worry much about my lies, knowing Belle's belief in me was absolute. It felt as if nothing could bring me down, and for the longest time it was true. 

For seven months we were happy. For seven months it felt as though we had everything, with nothing but a bright happy future on the horizon. I hadn't yet asked her to marry me, but I had been hinting at it strongly. We'd lay in bed after many a passionate hour, spent and exhausted, but loathe to sleep. It was during those times that we talked the most about the future, Belle cradled against me, her fingers laced with mine. 

Sometimes we talked about sailing, about exploring every corner of this new to me realm. Other times the talk was about sharing a home on land, a simple cottage painted with bright happy colors, and even brighter memories to be made inside. Sometimes we combined the best of both words, a home where Belle had her library, and I made an honest living off of the sea. In the end, it never mattered where we did this, or how, just so long as we were together. 

And together is what I thought we'd always be. I never allowed worry or fear to mar my relationship, believing the curse unbreakable, and myself unaccountable for all I had done, the lies and manipulations, the very things that had led me to Belle in the first place. I was ridiculously foolish, and woefully unprepared for the reality I now face. A life without her, and it's one I can't accept. 

Because I can't accept it, I wonder just how far I am willing to go. How much is too much when I am already ready to kill for her, die for her, maybe even hurt her and myself in the process. There's a fat question mark at the end of a question I don't want to ask, a lingering uncertainty that tells me I still know right from wrong, but just barely. All it will take is one more push to top fate in one of either direction. 

I wonder what or who will be the catalyst. Ruby with her constant interference, the sheriff who tries to use the law to stand in my way, or even Belle herself with what might be the last straw when it comes to her attempts at rejection. It certainly won't be the papers the sheriff wields, that thin document that she calls a restraining order. I don't see how they think it holds the power to keep me away from Belle, the words written on it as meaningless as the law the sheriff tries to uphold. 

Words alone are not magic, and that paper is no talisman. It'll take a power greater than the sheriff's restraining order to keep me from my beloved, and there is ways around most obstacles including the wolf. For all Ruby's superior sense of smell and strength, she also has her weaknesses, ones I am all too willing to exploit. That I haven't yet is a sign of my own self control, and my own hope that it won't come to this, to any extreme measures. 

But I am a fool for hoping. For daring to believe it might all work out in my favor. I've underestimated the person I cherish the most, the desperate lengths Belle will go to to keep me away from her. I dared to believe it would all work out, that she would get over her fear, and come to her senses. That she would finally stop denying the love that we have, that she would accept it and me. 

It's an acceptance that doesn't have a chance of happening, not so long as Belle keeps me at a distance. Not so long as she keeps feeding her fears, telling herself lies about me and the nature of my interest. But the harder she runs, the faster I give chase, and not even the addition of Rumplestiltskin into our equation can stop me for long. 

It's a splash of water more freezing than the rain, the instant I spy him on Granny's doorstep. Rumplestiltskin in his suit, with an expression that might almost be nervous as he waits for the door to open. And then it does, and he's all hopeful smiles, murmuring a greeting to the pale faced woman, my beloved, my Belle. 

I am a cocktail of fury and rage, hating him and the fact he is anywhere near her. I'm blind to anything else but the fact that he is finally making his move, and that she is allowing it. And with that allowance, I go careening over the edge, Rumplestiltskin just the excuse I have been looking for to do exactly as I please. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued...


	7. Seven

I don't stick around to discover just how long Rumplestiltskin visits with Belle. There's simply no time to waste on such details, even if the idea of him spending even one second alone with her is more than I can bare. I can't allow myself to wonder why he is there, why she has allowed him entry into her home. I fear the answers, fear the time for our love story is coming to an end. There's only two reasons why Belle would invite Rumplestiltskin near, and both bring the window of my opportunities careening to a close. 

But I refuse to be shut out that easily. I won't give up without a fight, and I won't go quietly into the night. It's a war I am about to wage, and Rumplestiltskin is not the only one with magic as a resource. I've had three hundred years to collect some trinkets of my own, magics and enchantments that may not be strong enough to kill the dark one, but will give me the fighting chance I need. I'll need every last one, certain of nothing when it comes to what I may go up against. 

It might be nothing, or it might be every powerful barrier magic Rumplestiltskin can cast. He might do worse than a barrier, he might strike out against me directly. He might even kill me, but I don't believe for one second that Belle would willfully allow him to take so extreme a measure against me. And not simply because I am convinced that she still loves me, but because of the kind of person she is. But just because Belle is too good to wish anyone dead, doesn't mean Rumplestiltskin won't let an accident purposefully happen. I'll have to take every precaution against that, putting several enchanted charms into my coat's pockets for both the protection they offer, and the offensive capabilities that may just make a difference in the fight I am about to walk into. 

It's not just Rumplestiltskin I prepare against. I have a special treat for Ruby, one guaranteed to pay her back for all the trouble and interference she's given me these past several months. I have a generous helping of the powder in my pocket, literal wolf's bane which is guaranteed to not only weaken a werewolf physically, but to dull all of her senses. Ruby won't be tracking anyone for days if she's lucky, and that's not until after she recovers from the sickness inducing side effects of the powder. 

I don't intend to stick around long enough for Ruby to make a full recovery. Hell, I don't even plan to be around when she first comes to. If all goes according to plan, by the time Ruby wakes and can alert anyone to what I've done, Belle and I will long be gone. And not even Rumplestiltskin will be able to find us, for sailing is not the only thing the Jolly Roger can do. 

Not for the first time do I find myself grateful for the fact my ship is made entirely out of enchanted wood. That bit of magic allows it to be so much more than a mere vessel of the sea. It can fly, it can withstand travel to other realms, and most of all it interferes with the casting of outside magic. Rumplestiltskin will have a heck of a time finding me once I am safely aboard, and once the Jolly Roger has set out on the sea, even the wolf won't be able to track us, no matter where we might go. 

The possibilities are not yet endless. I am aware of the curse that circles around this town. It's a magic that won't affect me, but Belle has no such guarantee. But I don't want to resort to it, actively hope and pray that there will be some other choice. But I'm not sure there is one, my options severely limited by both the people of this town, and by Belle herself. She has tried to impede me every step of the way, has actively run from me and our love. With every denial and rejection, she has led us to this point, to my most desperate attempt to win her. I am driven not by just my own need to love her, but by the fact she has left me no other choice. I HAVE to do this, have to force her to accept me and the love that she tries to deny. 

I don't expect it to get any easier, once I have her in my grasp. I fully expect her to fight me, to reject the destiny I see before us. I'm prepared to fight just as hard if not harder then she, but even I don't know what the outcome will be. We can emerge stronger for our love, or be destroyed by it, left totally broken as shattered halves of what we could have been. But one thing is clear..,.I won't give her up. 

It's not that I can't, it's that I am incapable of letting go. My heart is hers, my life, my very existence hers to decide. I live and breathe, FEEL because of her. She needs to take responsibility for the man I've become, this desperate, love sick individual who can't imagine going on without her. She needs to do more than that, she needs to love me and stop running, own it and the future she had promised me. 

I am entitled to that much, aren't I? After living so long without any hope of a real future, after finally putting aside my vengeance to experience love and life anew, I am owed this much. And fate can't be that cruel to deny me happy ever after a second time around. 

But if it is, if the Gods themselves have damned me, then I have no problem taking what I want. And so I don't hesitate, busying myself with preparations that seem to take too long. I can't afford to be sloppy, but there is a sense of urgency to my every action. Every minute, nay every second counts, time as much my enemy as Rumplestiltskin is. I don't know how long it will take him to cast his spells, hell I don't even know IF magic is the reason Belle let him in. But just as intolerable is the idea that his visit was based on her attempt to reconcile with him, to the point I almost hope he is covering the house with his magic rather than face the idea that she might be allowing his kisses and his touches. 

Either way, the end results are the same. Whatever Belle's reasons, her renewed association with Rumplestiltskin has forced my hand. I'll play the villain one last time, if it means it puts an end to her running. I'll make her confront everything that she tries to hide from and deny, and I won't stop at her cries of no. 

Those cries start when Belle sees what I've done to Ruby. The wolf's crumpled form lays on the street, not so much as a twitching as a result of the wolf's bane powder to her face and my fist to her gut. I don't quite regret the punch, even as I know Ruby had left me with no other choice. For even with a face full of the powder, she had still tried to go after me, and it is only because of the wolf's bane that Ruby had been weakened enough to fall susceptible to my fist. 

The powder clings in thick glittering clumps to Ruby's skin. I can remember her snarling, pawing at her eyes, the dust going up her nose, into her mouth, and still she had continued to go after me. She'll be sick in the morning, her hearing just about the only thing not affected by the powder. Of course it'll be hours before anyone has a chance to find out from Ruby what has happened, my partner in crime standing at the ready with plenty of sturdy rope. Smee gets to work immediately, tying knots in place around Ruby so that she is effectively immobilized by the hog tie. 

A gag is added for good measure. I don't intend to have Ruby rouse the alarm with premature screaming. It's bad enough that Belle has cried out, and I rush towards the house to quiet her. This time there's no Ruby to interfere, the woman having paid for bolting outside at the first whiff of my scent. She had reacted on instinct, and paid the price for reverting to animal impulses, Ruby never dreaming of the trap I had laid out for her. 

But the wolf neutralized is only one step of my plan. I rush the house, but am cautious, expecting a barrier to stop or zap me at any moment. When nothing happens, I still don't breathe a sigh of relief, taking it as a sign that Belle had let Rumplestiltskin in for a reason other than his magic. 

I'm sure my expression turns ugly at the idea of it. Belle looks at me, and pales, standing there on the middle of the staircase. She starts to scream a second time, then thinks better of it, spinning on her heels to run UP the staircase. The white nightgown that she wears, provocatively trails out after her, offering tantalizing glimpses of her calves. I can't stop and admire such a sight, running after her, taking the steps two at a time. A door slams shut above me, Belle locking herself in a room. I don't even think, just move with a violent kick of action, that sends the door flying inwards. 

A frightened scream greets me, Belle holding a device in her hand. I recognize it as a cell phone, and realize she is attempting to call for help. I immediately lunge towards her, and don't try to gentle my touch, grabbing her wrist with brushing strength so that she is forced to let go of the phone. I smash it under my foot for good measure, the call abruptly ended before it can get through to anyone. 

Belle goes wild at her last hope for help being destroyed, flailing with her free arm to thump her fist against my chest. She is steadily crying, fighting to get free, fighting harder when I haul her against me. I wrap my hook over the back of her neck, holding her in place for the kiss that cuts off the worst of her screams, while my hand lets go to dig in my pants' pocket for the something I had placed there just for her. 

The dust looks similar to wolfs bane, though it's not as thick and nowhere as debilitating. The worst it does is make Belle fall asleep, her body going limp in my arms. I relish holding her without the hysterics and the struggling, but I truly can't stop to enjoy this right now. She's screamed too much to not have roused her neighbors; suspicions, and Granny could return home at any moment from her late night shift at the diner. 

It's not the old woman I fear, so much as her shot gun, and the chance for accidents to happen. And they will happen if I'm cornered. I refuse to give Belle up, and I refuse to let anyone stop me, no matter how good intentioned they might be. I will hurt, may even kill, and I'll certainly die before I ever even consider handing Belle over now that I have her in my grasp once more. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	8. Eight

There are so many things that could have gone wrong. There are so many things that could have worked against my favor. The house could have been bespelled by Rumplestiltskin, Ruby might not have charged out the door, Belle might have succeeded in calling for help. Granny could have come home earlier than expected from the diner, the neighbors could have come to investigate. But for once it feels as though the fates are in my corner, Belle's unconscious form cradled in my arms as though the Gods themselves have put her there. 

It's not something I have accomplished solely on my own. Smee has provided an invaluable assistance, and not just because he's moved Ruby. He's played both the lookout, and the get away driver, lending the use of his chrome and rust vessel as the vehicle that gets us to the harbor in a matter of minutes rather than the hour it would have taken on foot. Even with the time considerably shortened, I was tense, holding Belle slumped against me while expecting at any moment the flashing lights that would signify that the sheriff was in hot pursuit. 

They never came. Even with Smee driving like a mad man, taking turns at neck breaking speeds, the streets behind us remained empty. Where ever the sheriff was this night, she wasn't out to get in my way for once. Another small miracle that, for that woman has a knack for involving herself in things that should be of no concern of hers. It is especially true for the situation I find myself in with Belle, the law having no place in our romance. 

It hasn't from the start, Belle and I two free spirits, who have defied the rules, the very laws and limitations others would have put on our love. We have ignored those who had tried to restrict us, outright defied those who would stop us. That defiance had come easily, the rule breaking as natural as breathing. Harder yet would have been to stay away, my vengeance and then my love, driving me to be with Belle at all cost. She had felt the same way, not caring what others thought, or about how our continued association had caused conflict in all her other relationships. Belle had wanted to be with me, and I was determined to see her want that again. 

But it won't be easy. I am prepared for the fight that looms ahead of me, my opponent not the Sheriff, or Rumplestiltskin, or even the wolf, but Belle herself. I fully expect her to fight me every step of the way, fully expect that same stubborn streak that had led her to defy her guardians time and time again to turn against me now. I will try to be as patient as I can be, but I fully expect us to be torn ragged before this is all through. 

I don't truly look forward to the fighting, especially when the ultimate outcome is so uncertain. I don't know where we'll end up, what we'll become, but I know that almost anything is better than not having Belle in my life. She has become my reason for living, the reason for all the joy and happy feelings I have had, but Belle has also become the source of my frustration and torments. It is no lie to claim it is sheer agony to be apart from her, that our separation tears at my very soul. I want her, need her, and only she can soothe the madness that threatens to overtake me even now. 

Simply put I love her, and it's that love that is driving me to do all this. Everything, from the kidnapping, to knocking out Ruby, to setting out to sea from the harbor. There's not a set destination in mind, I simply sail the Jolly Roger out as far as I dare, lingering close to a boundary I wont yet cross unless pushed there by a pursuit. An anchor tethers us in place, keeping the ship just out of reach of the curse. 

There will always be the temptation of it, the desire to take the easy route where Belle's memories are concerned. I don't want to resort to it, but then I'm doing a lot of things I haven't wanted to do. But she's left me no choice, and Rumplestiltskin being invited into her home is the game changer where everything is concerned. Because I won't give her up, and I won't lose her to anyone, least of all HIM. I may have abandoned my revenge, but I am not about to let go of my heart's desire. 

But there is a part of me that is angry. A part of me that growls for answers. I want to know why Rumplestiltskin was there, why she had allowed him near, and what they could have been talking about. I fear I already know, the lack of magic around Granny's house a damning evidence. I torture myself with imagining how far things went, with wondering just how much Belle might have allowed, might have done to try and put a damper on our love. I am sick at the idea of him touching her, of Belle letting him. I wonder what is so wrong about me, so terrifying, that she would prefer to run to the arms of that monster than accept the love I have for her. 

I have dozens of questions, and too few answers. The not knowing kills me, but the truth is just as scary. I don't want to think of how badly I might react, don't want to think what I might say, what I might do in a fit of insane jealousy. I want the comfort of knowing she told him no, want to believe she sent him packing shortly after I had left. I need her to tell me it had all been a lie, a show put on with the sole intent to discourage me. That it hadn't didn't matter, I just needed her to reassure me. 

I needed more than just that reassurance, I needed her. I needed her warmth, her nearness, and I wasn't content to wait for her okay. She was still unconscious when I settled into the bed beside her, her chest rising and falling with the gentle ease of her breath. My eyes couldn't help but be drawn to modest cut of her thin nightgown, the way the white silk strained across her voluptuous curves. Form fitting to a point, the sleeves were a loose flow of silk that draped down her arms, and nearly reached to her finger tips. 

I touched my fingers to hers, then let the sleeve be drawn back to stare at the bruises on her delicate wrist. They contrasted with the porcelain beauty of her coloring, the bruises from where I had grabbed her already turning an ugly mottled blackish blue. It was a regrettable but necessary evil, the first real force I had ever had to use against her in this world. 

Of course I've threatened her, even struck her, but that was all in the past. I had been a different man then, a man consumed by his revenge. The Hook that I had once been hadn't been the type to regret being ruthless, but the Hook I was now felt bothered to see the bruises. But I also knew we would be lucky if the bruising was the worst we would inflict on each other in the coming days. 

The maelstrom of emotion wasn't something I was eager to confront. But like the bruising, the fighting and arguing would be a necessary evil, one that would hopefully, eventually lead to a reconciliation. I didn't want to consider what would happen if our battle led us anywhere else, if she left me with no other choice. I didn't want to think on what I might be capable of, how far I would go when I already had her, warm and pliant in my bed. 

Just the act of having her there was a great comfort to me. But it wasn't enough! I needed more than to just have her laying there, I needed to touch and hold her, needed to feel her warmth on me, to breathe in and surround myself with her scent. I needed her, and I didn't see anything wrong with stealing a few touches. 

With my hand trembling, I lay it down on the hip of her. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her nightgown, but it was dulled by the silk. I wanted to be done with that barrier, but I didn't dare. Belle's supple beauty was such that a saint would be tempted, never mind a pirate! 

I moaned in frustration, knowing what was right, knowing what was wrong. Belle didn't stir at the sound, the sleep powder having her firmly in it's grip. I rubbed my hand down the length of her, from hip to knee, always careful to keep the nightgown's fabric between us. But I wanted more! I ALWAYS wanted more from her, and it wasn't easy to stop. 

My hand shook harder from the effort, my rebellious fingers reaching with their tips to try and sneak a touch of her skin. I knew my control would shatter should I get it, and I abruptly snatched my hand off of her. But I didn't leave the bed. Instead I fell back against the pillows, my hand shaking as I brought my fingertips to my lips. I imagined I could still feel her warmth on them and let out a sigh. 

To myself I acknowledge that perhaps this was the worst torture of all. To have Belle so close, and be unable to act, to know my control was so fragile that even a touch could prove my undoing? But then, it's been this way for a while now, her every touch, every kiss, every expression the key to my unraveling. She's had this power over me since before we first kissed, and it's only gotten stronger with every expression of our love. I'm obsessed with it, with her, and the way she makes me feel. 

It's a feeling that is good, but frightening in it's all consuming need. When I am with her, when all is right in our world, I live and breathe contentment. I am happy, but more than that, she brings a calm to me, helps me to find a peace that had eluded me for roughly three hundred years. Without her I am dying, drowning on desperation and need, torn apart by the sadness of being pulled from her side. 

It's not that I am nothing without her, but that my life has no meaning if she is not an every day part of it. She's my reason for not giving up, for living, for laughing. For finally learning what it means to be happy. The seven months I had spent with her had made their impact on me, Belle marking me more thoroughly than an iron hot brand. I am hers, and it's time she acknowledge it. 

Once she would have had no problem making that claim. With both words and actions, Belle had seized hold of my heart, her every kiss, her every promise cementing further her hold on me. I might as well have been her slave, so thoroughly did she have me, and never once did I wish to be free. 

I want to make the same impact on her. I want to bind Belle so thoroughly to me, that she'd be just as incapable of leaving. I want her so twisted up on the inside, that she can't breathe without me, that she'd die without me. I want her heart to break at the thought of losing me, want her to stop fighting, stop resisting what we have. Most of all I want her to want me, want to hear the declarations from her lips, the confirmation that she still loves me. 

I want her to tell me that the lies didn't matter, that the seven months we had spent together had meant as much to her as they did to me. I want to spend every waking moment making new memories, to reaffirm our love and connect on all levels. I want her, want her everything in return for my heart. 

It seems a small price to pay, given the effect she has had on me. On my bruised and battered heart. Broken once, Belle had put it back together, filling the empty void within me. She had shared her love and warmth with me, slowly healing the rifts within it, rebuilding it so that I myself changed. I became a caring man, a loving man, her man, nurtured and nourished by just her presence in my life. 

With every touch, every act, every whispered I love you, I had become more than I had been. By the time we had first made love, I was gone, helplessly, hopelessly in love with her. And it showed, my every thought, my every act centered on her. It was whole hearted the love I felt, and I was uncharacteristically gentle, a man focused not on his own satisfaction but on hers. 

For the first time in some three hundred years, I had cared about a woman's feelings. It was no longer about getting my own, or about using Belle for vengeance. It was simply about being with her, and that was pleasure enough on it's own. That first time, as badly as I had wanted her, had been about controlling myself and soothing the worst of her uncertainties. Belle hadn't feared me or the act, but with her memories gone, there was that unknown factor of how far she might have gone with the Dark One. She hadn't known if she was a virgin, but then her virginity had never been much of a concern to me. But still I had wanted to be gentle, to make sure I eased her into what was essentially the first sexual experience she could ever remember having. 

I still remember the tremble of her arms around me, the way her soft hands had stroked fingers down my back. She had been understandably nervous, but had also been excited, her hungry little mouth hot and eager on my own. Such a heady response had made it difficult to not devour her from the mouth on down, the ardent expression of her lips urging my own into a greater frenzy of passionate play. I remember tangling my fingers in her hair, gripping those brown curls in an effort for control. 

The same control that I used that night, I seek now, Belle enough of a temptation on her own, without the memories adding to my struggle. With the same hand that had touched her then, I reach out to her now, ghosting my fingertips a hairsbreadth away from her sweet lips. I know they would be soft to the touch, and know well the sweet clinging feel of them pressing down on my own. Most of all I know the moist heat that they guard, have felt it, been burned by it's brand on my skin. I want to feel that heat again, want to remember how it made me shiver that first night, when Belle had softly suckled my thumb inside. 

That sensation alone could have led to my undoing that night, but then Belle had boldly met my heated gaze with one of her own. With her eyes the color of a gentle blue sea, Belle had looked at me and had smiled. That smile, along with countless others, are ingrained in my memories, each one special and different and all mine. 

I have seven months of memories with this woman, and we have squeezed a lifetime of loving into that time. I've seen her at her happiest, and at her saddest, and everything in between. It kills me the idea that she might never be that happy again, that her terror and tears might be all that's left for me, for us. 

But then it is an all too real possibility. I might never see her look at me in that adoring way, may never again have the love and affection gleam in her eyes. I can destroy her memories, but in doing so I lose a part of her, the Belle that I have spent seven months loving, seven months making memories with, gone. And perhaps that is why I truly hesitate, the idea of starting over with what amounts to a stranger with her face almost more than I can bare. 

It would be easier if I could. But I want more from Belle then her body, I want the complete package, the personality and memories and wit. I want the woman who had teased me, who had laughed with me, who had enjoyed reading to me excerpts of her favorite books. I want the woman who I had explored Storybrooke with, who had showed me the wonders of modern day living. I want the woman who I had taught the secret to navigating by the stars, the woman I had stolen fruit for, the woman I had fought a werewolf for. 

I want THAT Belle, and there is just about nothing I won't do to have her. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


	9. Nine

There's a faint scent of lilacs that greet me when I start to wake, a light perfume of smell that grows stronger when I bury my nose into her hair and inhale. An immediate contentment fills me, a smile threatening to split my face with it's good natured happiness. Because it suddenly feels like it's all been nothing but a dream, some horrible nightmare brought on by too much whiskey and rum. It doesn't matter that I don't smell the drinks, that I don't have the pounding hangover headache that comes from such excess. All I know and care about is that Belle is here, in my arms where she belongs. 

That fact makes it seem as though all is right in my world. I grin and rub my cheek against her hair, and focus on something other than the nightmare of the last few days. Such as the fact that Belle is pressed against me, her arm extended enough to rest her left hand on my chest. Her fingers have curled on the light dusting of hair there, my shirt open enough to allow for such contact. I can even feel the heat of her palm, and fainter yet the warmth of her breath, Belle's lips parted as she dreams. 

The steady inhale and exhale, sends her breath ghosting along my skin, causing a shiver of reaction in me. Better yet I feel her breasts pushing at my side, moving with her breathing. Luxuriating in the rise and fall motion of them against me, the fiercest of wants hits me. Aroused, I use my half awake state to ignore right from wrong, and go after what I want in the most primal of senses. 

I curl my fingers in her hair, that wild wave of silken curls, and my lips meet her forehead. Just a ghost of a kiss, I feather similar over the lashes of her closed eyes, caress the tip of her nose before planting my mouth firmly over hers. She's still asleep when I kiss her, but not so unresponsive as to not react to the feel of my lips charming hers. They tremble, then part on a sigh, and it is Belle who fits her mouth to mine now. 

I just barely hold back my moan, just barely keep from digging my fingers into her scalp. I want to hold her like this forever, keep the kiss going past that point of breathlessness, and just lose myself to the feeling of Belle kissing me back. Some still sane part of me argues against such a thing, but I quickly squash down all feelings of wrongness. I kiss Belle, and with a hungry growl I roll us, so that she ends up on her back beneath me. It's at that point the kiss becomes something harsh, frenzied in the desperation I feel. I feast on her kiss like the starving man I am, and it is only the fact that the sole hand I have is still tangled in her hair that keeps me from pawing at her body. 

My hook lay to the side of her, pretty much useless when it came to the act of loving. It's sharp tip was made for hurting, maiming, and killing, and has no business being anywhere on Belle's delicate flesh. It is a fact that it can only serve one purpose in this bed, and as tempting an idea as it is to use it to tear apart Belle's nightgown, I still seem to know that wouldn't be a good idea. It's about the only thing I seem ready to acknowledge as wrong, too busy taking advantage of her, and the fact that she is still asleep. 

But her lips are active, Belle honest in a way she wouldn't have been when awake. She kisses me like the woman in love I know her to be, and there is this sweet touch of yearning to her lips' expression that makes me think she is as hungry for this as I am. I don't think I am completely deluding myself to say Belle misses this, and misses it from me. And in that moment more than arousal is felt, my hopes renewed and soaring as I break the kiss and stare down at her sleeping face. My fingers let go of her hair, so that I can brush my thumb over her lips, and I can't help but give a wicked grin. I can't know anything for certain where she and Rumplestiltskin's visit are concerned, and yet I want to believe that their relationship still hasn't gone to the next level. Otherwise I think she wouldn't be reacting quite this much, with her lips wrapping around two of my fingers, tongue playing over the flesh in a way that sends pleasured ricocheting straight down to my dick. 

My mind's focus shatters, thoughts of Rumplestiltskin and the nature of his visit with Belle temporarily gone to the pleasure she has induced. I don't wonder and worry if Rumplestiltskin has finally had the courage to be a man where she is concerned, the fit of my pants growing snug as the leather strains itself across the bulge of my groin. My arousal borders on pain, I want and need Belle that badly. And the way she reacts to my hand seizing rough hold of one of her breasts, makes me think she needs this too. Her nipple quickly peaks, pushing noticeably against the silk. I moan out loud, wanting to latch onto it with my mouth, to suck and tease it and make her wake with such a fierce ache that Belle would do anything to have me soothe it. 

But I don't. I control myself, but just barely, the holding back of my lust a test I must pass. As badly as I want to make love to her, I know it won't solve anything. There's still so much we have to work out, and the last thing we need is my using her body against her for a moment of gratification. She would see it as just another betrayal, my lust doing irreparable damage, what remained of our relationship ruined immediately after. I know all this as fact, and yet it is still incredibly hard to pull away from Belle, to get out of that bed and into the shower. 

Somehow I manage exactly that, though I feel far from in control as I stand under the spray of warm water. My lust remains, far from vanquished, it's hot throbbing focal point the hardness between my legs. My cock is swollen and fully erratic, it's color an angry red the pain of rampant lust denied. 

The water beats down on me, my hand hovering on a decision. Instead of turning the warm water cold, I take hold of my cock, my hand a firm, harsh fist as I began to beat off furiously to thoughts of Belle. 

At first I picture her as she is, asleep in my bed, in a nightgown that is provocative despite it's attempt at modesty. It's form fitting waist, the way the clinging silk strains to contain her ample breasts. The flare of it's knee length skirt, as it lays in soft folds over her thighs. And then I do away with the nightgown, and the garment underneath it, picturing Belle in all her natural glory. 

Most of all I picture her face, the way she had looked that first time. The love and trust in her eyes that couldn't quite do away with her uncertainties, Belle nervous despite her want for what had been about to happen. That night, when we had first made love, when we had discovered the Dark One's greatest oversight, I had kept my pants on. Both to minimize her fear, and in an effort to keep from forgetting myself and thrusting inside her at the first available opportunity. It had been my decision to make, wanting to please her, and soothe away the worst of her fear. It hadn't been easy to hold back, but then when has it ever? 

Never. Especially with the amount of red heat that runs wild through my veins. It sends lust burning through me, just barely keeps from rendering me into a man who is single minded in the pursuit of it. That lust isn't tempered by the love that I feel, it's merely fed by the emotion, grown stronger when focused on a single woman. It's a potent mix of the two together, a mix so strong that any sane woman would hesitate despite her own answering love and desire. 

I'm sure my own smile that night was strained, the struggle to control myself leaving it's toll. With desire burning in my veins, my eyes had surely turned sea dark, the arousal turning my cock rock hard from just the lightest of foreplay. My pants had bulged noticeably, Belle actually swallowing in nervous response every time her eyes had looked that way. I'm not a small man, my endowment such that even covered it was impressive. I'm sure she would have bolted then and there at the sight, but I had kept on touching her, distracting her with kisses, soothing her with my fingers' caress. 

She had liked that, the dip of my fingers between the soft velvet folds of her woman's flower. The determined caress of my fingers had begun to make her body moisten in readiness, and Belle's own hips had begun a slow steady dance in response, the woman writhing in place against my fingertips. I would keep on petting her but lightly, feeling how the tense nervous energy of her body became something else, a different kind of tension that had nothing to do with her apprehension and everything of the need I was stroking to life inside her. 

It had made her burn, Belle kissing me with all the needy desperation that she had been feeling as a direct result of my fingers' actions. She would actually whimper into my mouth and dig her nails into the biceps of my arms. The blood drawn was proof of how wild she had been made to feel, but Belle was also uncertain, unprepared for the feelings that were being aroused inside her. It had nearly brought her to tears, her blues eyes actually having glistened, as she had moaned and whimpered and begged me with words incapable of articulating what it was that she had wanted. 

She had been nearly despondent when I had abruptly stopped my fingers' petting. Her flower's slit had a generous heaping of her body's dew leaking out of it, and my own fingers had been wet as well. Her eyes would turn startled in response to watching me lick those fingertips clean, Belle cutely flabbergasted in her moment of rare speechlessness. 

"Sweet." Is what I would moan, and I would shift away from her just so I could admire the flushed state of her feverish body. The blush of her cheeks had spread, the pink everywhere, and her dusky colored nipples had tightened into two crinkled stiff points. My mouth had watered again, and I placed a hungry, open mouthed kiss over one. She tasted sweet, and her impassioned moan was music to my ears, but I wasn't through teasing her. I'd drop a kiss, not to her lips, but to that ripe center between her legs. A shocked gasp would follow, but before she could do much more than process the new sensation, I would begin a slow drag of my tongue. 

It would travel not over the part I had so lovingly caressed just seconds earlier with my fingers, but instead upwards, slicking a moistened trail in a single determined line. It was slow, deliberate, and cruel, Belle's fingers tangling in my hair as she tried to push me back down. I would not be deterred, dipping my tongue briefly into her naval, before continuing that slow drag up. Belle would shiver and moan in response, her flesh breaking out into goose bumps as my stubbled chin and cheeks rubbed their bristles between her breasts. 

She'd arch with a cry as my mouth had latched onto her right nipple. This time it was no gentle kiss but a full out assault of the most sensual kind, as I had begun to lick and suck at her treat. My lips a soft contrast to the hardness of her nipple, had caressed fully that peaked point. Belle would shiver and clutch at me, and try to force me back down, and I would stubbornly persist, actually making her beg me. 

"Killian, please." 

I had rewarded her with a smile that was as wicked as my intentions, staring at her with eyes that took in her every expression, every shuddered breath and shiver. I would plant kisses all over the tops of her breasts, at times teasing my tongue across a nipple. She would beg me again, her clutching grip turning demanding as she tried to push me down her body. That one kiss had transformed her, turning her from nervous uncertainty, to a needy wanton, Belle the one who was focused and desperate. 

Needy, she had taken to pleasure like dry straw takes to fire. Her body had ached, quickly aflame as though used to it, as though it had been stimulated often. It couldn't be further from the truth, Belle having turned out to be a virgin in body as well as in mind. I was frankly shocked, unable to imagine how the Dark One had kept his hands off of her for any length of time. Because I certainly couldn't, my hand caressing everywhere, fingers exploring her body in a leisurely fervor that had had Belle whining, and arching against me. 

Her reactions had incited my own passioned responses, making me crazed and glad for the fact my pants remained on. It was perhaps the only thing that had kept me from thrusting inside her, Belles' virginal state and my own sizeable endowment a mix I wasn't eager to introduce just yet. Instead of a blessing, it was an unexpected burden. I hadn't wanted to cause her pain of any kind, and yet it had seemed unavoidable due to my size. Suddenly I was the one filled with apprehension and uncertainty, and it had been Belle who had had to soothe me. 

"It will be okay." She had said, her eyes having shone with her love and her trust. "I trust you." 

Even with that spoken reassurance, I had still hesitated. For the first time in my long and storied life, I had felt what amounted to performance anxiety, my central fear that I would hurt her. My lust had still been there, but it had felt tempered by my worry, the fire inside me turning cold. I think---know Belle had sensed me pulling back, and it was all the reason she had needed to move to reignite my lust. She hadn't just kissed me, she had pressed against me, with her hand over the bulge of my pants. She hadn't known exactly how to do it, but she had rubbed and caressed me with her palm, imitating the stroking of my fingers with her hand. 

"Belle." I remember trying to warn her against playing with the fire that was a pirate's lust. She had ignored me, whimpering please over and over again, as Belle had planted moist kisses over the pulse point of my throat. She even went so far as to mouth at my Adam's apple, and had then caressed kisses over my collar bone. And all the while, she had kept rubbing the front of me, her kisses going lower and lower as she had begun to slide down in further imitation of what I had done earlier. 

When her lips had brushed against one of my nipples, I had reacted with a jolt. I had already begun to push her down to the bed before Belle could complete the act of an open mouth kiss, the woman having had gasped in surprise at the sudden roughness in which I had forced her down. But the love and trust hadn't wavered in her gaze, Belle staring at me with warmth and adoration as I had gazed down at her, breathing heavily. 

At that point there had been few words left to me. Belle had played with fire and I had been the one to be burned, my mind firmly caught in the grip of my lust. It is a testament to the love that I feel, that I didn't just fall on her wildly in a bid to satisfy myself alone. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been there, quick to remind me of her presence as a feeling, desiring woman. Belle had reached up with both hands to catch at my face, pulling me down for a kiss as I had fumbled and tore with my hook to get the front of my pants open. Even as my cock sprung free of the tight confine of the leather, that kiss had save me, saved us both. In that moment I knew what was stronger, true love winning out over lust as I had forced it back so that I could see properly to my woman's needs. 

With sweat beading on my brow, and a smile that had been strained, I would crawl down the length of her until her thighs were fitted around my shoulders. They'd quiver in anticipation, Belle having gone long past the point of shyness, the whispered breath escaping her as I had lovingly nuzzled my face between them. The light bristles of my beard, the warmth of my breath, my lips gentle caress, all worked together to tear an excited sound from Belle. She would then collapse fully against the pillows, already lost to the sensation of my lip's exploration. 

I'd travel them over every inch of her, learning her shape and texture, before settling a hungry open mouth kiss around the tiny nub that was the focal point for much of her pleasure. That small bundle of nerves seemed to throb in eager greeting against the center of my tongue, and I would press down against it, a long, slow lick that would tear a strangled sound from Belle. 

That sound was the herald of the song that would follow, an audible treat of moans, whimpers and soft spoken squeals that was music to my ears. Belle had never been one to be quiet, and she didn't break trend when it came to her passionate responses. She'd moan and cry out, and it wasn't just her voice but her body that had proved enthusiastic. She would dance underneath me, writhing in place as though she could not hold still. More than once would I have to grab hold of her legs, looping my arms around them to keep Belle from wriggling free. 

Such passion made her quick to burn, and it hadn't been all that long before her body had hit upon it's first climax. She would cry out and arch up off the bed, before collapsing back down, her hands having gone to her breasts, her fingers squeezing them rhythmically. A soft keening sound would escape her lips, Belle in the throes of ecstasy when I had begun to thrust inside her. 

The feel of my fat cock head pushing inside had been enough to get Belle to snap open her eyes and truly look at me. The fevered look to them was off set by the gratified blue, Belle starting to whisper a thank you when I tore through her hymen. Her face had frozen between gratitude and pain, Belle's soaked flesh still no match for the size of my cock when it came to this. 

I had stilled immediately in response, but my traitorous body had a mind of it's own. It would tremble and shake, and my cock would throb steadily inside her. Sweat would pour down my back, and I would gnash my teeth together against the howl that had wanted to escape me. The strain of it had showed on my face, and Belle, ever the loving, nurturing soul, had responded. Her hand would seek out my own, her fingers would lace with mine before she would give me a reassuring squeeze. 

"It's all right." She would say. "You don't have to hold back anymore." 

I would like to say I had had enough control and presence of mind to NOT do as she had asked. But my lust had been at it's breaking point, the call of Belle's body proving too much to resist, and with a deep groan of relief, I would begin to thrust again. It was no easier the second time, Belle's eyes glistening with her discomfort. But she had been all about me, about my feelings and soothing MY lust, the woman lifting our joined hands so that she could plant many kisses over my fingers and knuckles. 

I didn't even try to last that first time. It was my mercy to her, and for that she was grateful. She was grateful for more than just that, Belle having enjoyed herself for the most part. The memory of that enjoyment was enough to get her to want to try again with me, and for that I am forever grateful. 

That first time had had been full of ups and down, but overall it was a memory to cherish. But then they all are, every moment spent with Belle precious. From the joys of love making, to what would be considered the every day mundane, each second she has been in my life has been wonderful, Belle's presence a treasure to be savored. Her effect on me, on my life, my mood has been nothing short but miraculous, Belle changing me, saving me. She's given me reason to live, IS that reason. Without her I have a nothing, and the memories are a cold comfort to the reality of not having her. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	10. Ten

Sound slowly starts to come back to me, as the memory and my lust recedes. I am aware of the water of the shower running, it's warm spray washing away the remnants of the hot sticky mess that has been the end result of my remembering. I don't feel any better for that memory, neither calmed nor satiated by my indulging in the past. If anything, I am angry, hurt by the idea that memories might be all that is left to me of that kind of life with Belle. The memories, as cherished as they are, are also mocking, taunting me with what I might never again have with her. 

It's not something I can accept as fact. Even as I know there are no guarantees, that we might never again be happy in that way, I fight. I fight not only to preserve the future once promised us, but to buy us back today, the loving, happy present that had been shattered just days ago. It's not something easily accomplished, nor is it something I can do entirely on my own. I can pick up the pieces of our lives, but I need Belle's cooperation in order to make them fit back together again. 

Even that much is not guaranteed, Belle having proven just as stubborn as me, but in all the wrong ways where we are concerned. Instead of fighting for us, she runs, actually tries to turn her back on the love we both have. I've both given chase and given her time to herself, and both things have led to nowhere I want to be. I'm not happy, and I don't buy for one second that she is either. Not like this, not apart, and not hurting. 

And she is hurting. I've seen the look in her eyes first hand, the pain and misery there caused by the love that Belle doesn't want to understand, or acknowledge as real. She's so busy running from it, from me, that she doesn't see how she's hurting herself or us. It's not healthy what she does, nor can we ever heal and move on so long as we remain in this standstill. Avoiding it won't make me go away, won't put an end to the love, or the memories she has. The changes she and I have both been through because of the effect we have had on one another. Effects that leave us as happier, better persons together than when apart, Rumplestiltskin the shared connection that had left us both so miserable and hurting, though for different reasons. 

Together we had been healing, leaving the memory of Rumplestiltskin and the grief associated with him behind us. I no longer wallow in the misery of having lost Mila, or hunger for revenge. While Belle no longer suffers from a love that had been abusive, a love that had left her more tortured than happy. She no longer had to fear being hurt, or imprisoned because of it, no longer had to deal with being a target for his enemies, myself included. She was happier, healthier, safer with me than she could ever have been with him. 

But more than that, she finally had a love that was returned unequivocally. There was no more restraining it, no attempts to hold back. Once I gave myself over to that love, something Rumplestiltskin had never been able to do, I lost my fear of it, and the hurt it could do. Instead of fearing what would happen to me, to my heart should it break once again, I focused on loving her whole heartedly. 

It was an easy, rewarding focus to maintain, Belle an honest joy to love. Through her I've become better, Belle a guiding light to my darkness. It's a light I cling to even now when I am drowning in a sea of desperation, using the love we have, the memory of it, to weather through this storm. Battered though her rejection leaves me, I shore up my strength on memories, and prepare to use love as both a weapon and a means to guide Belle back to where she belongs. 

It's a battle I prepare for, and one which everything worth having is staked on it's outcome. For even love is a gamble, it's course never smooth, never entirely guaranteed. I'll keep on chasing after it, after that happy ever after that has proved so elusive. It is a happy ever after I've had fleeting tastes of, just enough to wet my appetite, but I want more. I'll always want more of it, and from her. I can't, won't settle for anyone else, this love a madness that has me in it's grip. I don't even try to fight free, and such is my sickness that I won't let her go. 

It's her fault, I tell myself as I towel off. Her fault for proving so loveable, so irresistible, so heart shattering essential. What I had sought to use, had become my everything, Belle becoming what I need if I am going to maintain any semblance of sanity and healthy living. I cant imagine going back to what I was, nor can I handle the thought of moving on without her. I should be afraid, terrified of how desperate the lack of her has made me. Instead what I fear most is the not having at all. 

It's that fear that makes me so afraid, that makes me wonder and worry how far I will go. Even as I tell myself there are things I won't do, lines I won't cross, the fear makes a mockery of all that. I'm well aware of the ship, and how it's tether floats it just out of reach of the curse's boundary. I know some part of me might just be that desperate, that that desperate part might even now be considering the unthinkable. That same part wonders if this is my last chance, the only time left to get through to Belle and make her see reason where we are concerned. 

In some ways I am not eager for the confrontation that will ensue, but the alternative is no better. To give up before we even get to talk is unthinkable. I can't, won't sacrifice the memories she has of our time together, without first fighting to validate them. It will be the fight of a lifetime, words both hopeful and devastating a power. 

I try to think on what I will say, on how I will present my arguments as I began to get dressed. Pulling on my pants, I feel very much like a knight suiting up, readying my weapon of words, and my clothed armor. The shirt follows my pants, but a noise from the bedroom stops my fingers from their fumbling attempt to do up the first button. 

All sane and rational thought leaves me as I all but fly towards the door. The open shirt flaps around me, the black silk a frame for my chest. I jerk open the bathroom door, not at all quiet as my eyes scan the room. The bed lays empty, the sheets disturbed due to the haste in which she had vacated the premise. But Belle hasn't gotten that far, her fingers frantically tearing at the lock and handle, and in three steps I am there. 

My hand goes flat on the wood of the door, the click of the open lock coming too late for her escape. I firmly slam it back, and stand pressed behind her, breathing in the lilac scent of her hair. She has gone still, shaking with her agitation, but otherwise trying to ignore me. Her increased breath hints at just how strongly she is aware of me, Belle stiffening further when my hook and my hand touch her shoulders. 

"Belle." 

She doesn't fight me, when I began to turn her so that we are facing one another. But neither does she meet my gaze, studiously fixing hers elsewhere. There's a prominent flush of coloring in her cheeks, and at first I assume it is merely a red from anger. That assumption is replaced by another, my own embarrassed chuckle escaping me as I realize Belle had to have heard my moans, the barely suppressed howling of her name. But I offer no apologies, letting her stew on the effect she has had on me, has had for seven months now. 

It's an effect I feel even now, my lust hardly satisfied by what I had done in the shower. But at least I feel as though I can breathe, think a little better, now that I am not completely consumed by my desire for her. I'm even able to touch her, though I make sure to keep to the clothed parts of her body, my fingers trembling just slightly on her shoulder. 

My hook has no such problem, the blunt curve of it being tucked under her chin. I use it to lift her head up, forcing her to acknowledge me. Her blue eyes flash with resentment and anger, and even fear. I feel terrible to see it, hate that I have made her feel even a glimmer of any of the three. 

"I'm not here to hurt you." Is what I say out loud. She shifts, and it's clear by the look in her eyes, that Belle doesn't believe me one bit. "Belle, I...." 

"I want to go home." 

She says it almost defiantly, watching me carefully for my reaction. I inwardly flinch, but out loud I merely tell her that she already is at home. For one brief moment, Belle closes her eyes, as though she needs that second to gather her own strength. And then the blue blazes with her anger, and she is snapping out a retort to me. 

"You can't force me to stay here!" 

But it's exactly what I can do, though I tell her my fervent wish of how I hope that soon she will stay here with me, because she WANTS to. Belle scoffs in response to that, then reddens further when I point out there is many things I can force her to do. 

"But I choose not to." I add for careful measure, letting her have the time to consider how I had taken a shower, rather than force myself on her so completely. 

"And how long before that changes?" My spirited lady challenges me, despite her fear. "How long before you tire of this, and do more than just hold me prisoner here?" 

My silence makes her noticeably shiver. I'm sure she is thinking the worst as a result, and it's nightmarish because I have wondered the same. How long? How long before I do something unthinkable to her? How long before my desperation dwindles away the last of my remaining patience? I simply don't know, and it's as terrifying to me as it must be to her. 

"It won't work." Belle adds when she can't take my silence any longer. "It won't be long before Rumplestiltskin finds us." 

"That is where you are wrong." I fight back my anger at hearing her say his name. My smile is more tired than smug, as I point out how my ship is made of enchanted wood, and will work in my favor to befuddle any locating spells Rumplestiltskin might try. I think Belle would have paled in response, if the blush hadn't been so prominent on her cheeks. 

"You're here for the long haul, love." I tell her, and those words do come off as smug, even mocking. "And there's nothing you can do to avoid what comes next." 

Wary, frightened, Belle still asks. "And just what is that?" Her voice just a whisper of sound, she backs up against the door as I loom over her with a smile. 

"We are going to talk." I watch her blink rapidly for a conversation is the last thing she had been expecting me to want to do with her. "About each and every moment, every thing you have been running from, rather than face. We are in fact, going to talk about love, and how much we mean to each other." 

Her look is one of appall, and then Belle's eyes narrow. "All right." She says, a flash of pearl white teeth showing as she practically snarls. "Let's TALK." 

It's my turn to blink in surprise, but Belle is already on the offensive. "Let us start with how you lied to me from the start! Lies you have been maintaining for MONTHS." 

I nod in response, much to her chagrin. "Yes, it's true. I went into this relationship with numerous lies. But I was a different person then..." I choose to ignore her scoff of disbelief, and continue. "A man driven by revenge. It was because of that revenge, that I pursued a friendship with you." 

"You wanted to hurt Rumplestiltskin." She accuses, and I nod. "You always have." 

"But not anymore." I counter, and again she gives me a disbelieving look. 

"Am I to believe that has changed, that you have changed?" Her look is pointed in response to my nod, Belle snapping. "A changed man wouldn't have stalked me. A changed man wouldn't have kidnapped me! A changed man wouldn't have kept lying to me!" 

"But a desperate man would!" I retort. "Belle, it was for your love, that I secretly hoped your curse would never break. It was the fear of losing you that drove me, that still drives me, and led me to maintain all of my lies." 

Instead of acknowledging the love I had referred to, she scowled. "You let me think Rumplestiltskin was evil! That he had hurt me, and wanted to hurt me again. You had me terrified of him...." 

"You were terrified of him long before I began lying." I quickly pointed out, reminding her of the night she had fled to my room for safety. 

"Because I didn't remember him, or magic!" Belle retorted. "I was scared of what I had seen him do, and half the time they had me so drugged, I didn't know what was real and what was a hallucination." 

"They shouldn't have done that to you..." 

"Yes, they shouldn't have." She quickly agreed. "And they wouldn't have, if you hadn't put me in that situation in the first place!" 

Now I visibly flinched in response. 

"You SHOT me." Belle added, glaring now. "You could have killed me, and you damn well stole my life in a different way." 

"I AM sorry I hurt you.." I began. "But I was a different man there, a man consumed by, and focused only on his revenge. I wanted to hurt that monster..." 

"He is not a monster!" 

"I wanted to hurt him so badly, it blinded me to everything else. Made me nearly as big a monster as the man I hunted. And yes...back then, I would have killed you without a second thought. And I wouldn't have regretted it then. But I would have missed out on so much, would have been a far more miserable man for not having you in my life. And do you know why? Because knowing you, LOVING you, CHANGED me. It started to make me a better person, a person that was moving to become worthy of you. Belle, my darling, you made my heart beat again, brought life to a man that hadn't really been living." 

She wasn't completely unmoved by the words I had said, Belle's eyes glistening with tears. But she bravely held on to them, keeping from outright crying. 

"Don't you see, my love?" I said, and moved to caress the tip of my hook through her hair. "I HAD to keep lying, because I thought it was the only way I could keep you in my life. It wasn't done out of malice, but out of desperation and love." 

"And you think that justifies everything?" Belle asked, to which I could only shrug helplessly. "Love isn't that desperate, and relationships have no foundations if they are based on lies." 

"The seven months I spent with you weren't a total lie." I tell her. "When I realized I was in love with you...." 

"When was that?" A sarcastic edge was in Belle's words. "Before or after you tricked me into bed?!" 

"Don't!" I snapped at her, a snarl to my words. "Do not try to confuse my very real feelings as being confused by sex." 

"Aren't they though?" 

"No." I can't help but seethe in response, hurt by her attempts to try and spin my feelings as being motivated purely on a sexual level. "If it had been all about fucking you, we would have had sex a lot sooner than we did." 

"Why...why didn't we...?" She asks softly, and I smile and touch her cheek. The warmth of that flushed skin on my fingers makes me tingle, channeling into a longing to do more than simply caress her face. 

"It was because of you. Because you had started to become more to me than just a tool for revenge." I tell her. "Belle, when I realized I was starting to have feelings for you? It made me scared." 

"Scared? Why?" 

"There's so many reasons. But it comes down to my fearing love." I watched her frown at that, then listened to her whisper softly, another why. 

"I loved once long ago. I loved that woman with all my heart, and when she was killed....it devastated me. I didn't know how to move on, didn't want to live. Revenge is the only thing that kept me going, the quest for it's achievement. Love broke me, and when I realized I was beginning to have genuine feelings for another woman, for you...I was scared. I had to do some deep soul searching, some honest thinking as I tried to decide what I wanted more of. A revenge that was cold satisfaction, or another chance at love that could break or heal me. Ultimately I chose you Belle, the love that we could---did have." 

I was still stroking her cheek, watching her eyes glisten further. "I don't know if you can understand being afraid of love..." 

"I can." She interrupted. She then sniffled in response to my questioning look. "You're not the only one I know who was afraid of love...and unlike you, he chose to turn away, rather than embrace it...." 

"Rumplestiltskin?" I guessed, and she nodded. The first of her tears began to fall, and I wasn't happy, unable to know if it was thoughts of me that made her cry, or thoughts of Rumplestiltskin that were the culprit. Maybe we both had a hand in her tears, Belle holding still as I tried to wipe away the worst of them. 

"He chose power and his curse over the love I had." Belle continued. I was quick to pick up on the past tense, questioning sharply. 

"Had?" 

She colored, and abruptly jerked out of my reach. "Have." She corrected hastily, than glared when I let loose my hopeful, cocky smirk. "I still have that love..." 

"Who are you trying to convince?" I asked her. She colored further, practically as red as a ripe tomato, before turning her back to me. "Me or yourself?" 

"I won't let you do this...." She sounded troubled. "I won't let you confuse me. Not any more." 

"There's nothing confusing about the facts." I pressed against her back, whispering silkily into her ear. "I chose you and love, where Rumplestiltskin did not. I will ALWAYS choose you over power." 

I felt her shivers against me, my lips fighting with the urge to wander past the curve of her ear. 

"He's...he's changed." Belle weakly argued. "He's not..." 

"Not what? Incapable of love? If that was true, than why didn't his kiss break your curse?" I was ruthless, relentless, again touching her shoulders with both my hand and my hook. "He tried multiple times...and not once did his lips hold the power of a love true enough to break the curse." 

"Neither did yours..." She pointed out with a mute sob of sound. 

"Not at first. But I can't help wondering..." I trailed off, and she took the bait, turning to look at me. 

"What? Wonder what?" 

"Love takes time to happen. Is it any different for true love?" I asked her. "If each day I grew to love you more and more, then isn't it possible that one day it was finally strong enough to be able to break any curse?" She was staring at me wide eyed, and I wondered if there was any chance of her truly considering my speculating words. 

"What if the love we felt together, for each other, finally did it? Finally put an end to your curse? Would you turn your back on it then?" 

"But it wasn't real...." 

"The hell it wasn't!" I snapped in passionate retort. "Belle, think back on those seven months. Think back on every word, on every moment and second we spent together. Think on those times, on me, on us, and tell me it wasn't real, that the love and passion and laughter was faked." 

Of course I knew it wasn't going to be that easy. A total victory wasn't in reach, but if I could get her thinking, get her to really examine our time together? It gave me hope that maybe just maybe, she'd see reason, and realize my love was real, even if it had been tainted with my initial lies. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	11. Eleven

Victory still lingered out of my reach, but a total loss was no longer drawing quite so near. With every second of Belle's hesitation, my hope surged, my heart daring to dream. She hadn't outright balked at my challenge, my beautiful angel staring at me, her breath noticeably hitching on a barely suppressed sob. Because she couldn't deny those seven months so completely, couldn't deny that the love and joy we have felt together hadn't been real. Those happy times may have been born on a lie, but what followed had been true and real, and heart felt, Belle just as in love as I was. 

But it hurt her to admit it, to even consider out loud that it might have been real, might have meant as much to me as it so obviously had to her. I could see in her tear filled eyes that she wanted to deny it, to renounce it and me. She looked downright defiant for one brief moment, as though Belle was readying a lie in which to reject me and the love that I feel. I stared at her beautiful face, willing her to be brave, enough to accept our past, and enough to forgive my lies. I was in effect begging for her surrender, needing Belle to cede ground by giving me at least this much. 

For even just this little bit, would be enough with which to build upon. If she could let go of her mistrust and anger, her hurt and betrayal even just a little, I was certain I could use that to win her over and back into my arms. I found myself hoping, my breath slowing as if that too would tip the balance one way, trying for a patience I did not feel. Time seemed to stretch, the agony of Neverland's eternity nothing compared to the agony of waiting for Belle's reply. 

And then she seemed to sag in place, her body losing much of it's rigid tension as Belle lost the defiant fire in her eyes, casting her gaze downwards with her soft admission. 

"It was real." She said, her voice a sad whisper. "For me." That last followed after a poignant pause, a heart beat of time that did it's best to destroy the joy her first admission should have awarded me. Ice flowed through my veins, chilling me with the idea that she was trying to cling to. 

"Now who is the liar?" I asked her out loud, my words holding the bite of despondent anger to them. Belle flinched in response to that, her cheeks maintaining their crimson flush. I longed to caress them while alternatively battling the desire to reach out and take her by the shoulders to shake some sense into her. 

I resisted both, staring at her steely eyed in my upset. She seemed to fidget in place, still refusing to meet my eyes. 

"I am not...." 

"Bull shit!" I cut off her words with my venomous curse. "You think to lie to me, and worse yet to yourself, by denying my feelings. By claiming that what I felt these past seven months with you wasn't real." 

"But..." 

"Yes, it started on lies!" I snap at her. "Yes I began it all with the intent to use you for my revenge. But it soon became apparent that that which exists between us was---is more important than getting over on Rumplestiltskin!" 

"How can I believe that?" Belle whispers. "How can I trust in anything you say?" 

It wasn't a question I could answer easily, her inability to trust in me a huge stumbling block to our happiness. I had not only lied, I had maintained them with the intent to never let her know the full and honest truth. I had banked on my faith that her curse would never break, that we would never be thrust into the unpleasant reality we now faced. I couldn't even honestly say I was sorry for my lies, or the revenge I had been seeking. For without either one, I doubt I would have ever had a chance to find and fall in love with Belle. 

"It wasn't all lies." I finally mutter. "Much of what I told you was true....if slightly modified for my purposes." 

"Only slightly?!" 

"I didn't lie to you at all about Rumplestiltskin and the evil he's capable of." I retorted defensively. 

"No, you just lied to me about his intentions towards me..." 

"A little." I allowed, ignoring her angry scoff of sound. "But are my lies any worse than the lies HE'S told you?" 

The look of hurt in her eyes, was offset by my satisfaction. The satisfaction born of how she couldn't claim otherwise. Rumplestiltskin had lied, manipulating not just the truth but the people and situations to any and all advantage. In that way we were the same, ruthlessly using whatever tools at our disposal to get what we wanted. That once again we were in competition for the same woman wasn't lost on me, though in this one circumstance I hoped the past wouldn't repeat itself so entirely. 

"He's...he's had his reasons..." 

"Just as I have had mine." I retort. "But Belle, darling? How many of those reasons can you say are fully fixed on loving you?" I watched her frown up at me. "Rumplestiltskin lies about everything...in the grand scheme of thing, keeping you, loving you comes second to the task of finding his own blood. Everything he does, everything he is about, is geared towards finding that boy. You'll never come first to him....hell, he'll never let you close enough to risk losing his vaunted power." 

"You're cruel." Belle blinked back a multitude of tears as she accused me. 

"I'm ruthless when it comes to going after what I want." I correct her, and reach for one of her hands. She's unresisting for that much, allowing me the lacing of our fingers, as I brought our hands towards my chest. "That I exploit the weakness in your relationship with him is not meant to hurt you so much as to get you to see...." 

Her arm tensed then, but I wouldn't let her pull away. I pressed her hand into my bare skin, directly over where my heart beat in my chest. "This heart may be bruised and battered, and still healing. But it's completely for you. The love that I feel for you is not some idle passing fancy, some side amusement that diverts me from some greater goal. You ARE the greater goal, a life with you, a future, a family, and everything happy ever after entails. There's nothing I want more, nothing that can make me happy, but to live out my life with you, and fulfil the promises we made to one another." 

My words had an effect on her, the silent stream of tears a testament to just how much. Her lips parted on a soft sigh, Belle staring first at our joined hands over my heart, then up at my face. I both wanted to kiss her, and wipe away her tears, and yet I didn't dare let go of her hand, keeping it pressed over my rapidly beating heart. I felt the quiver in her, Belle shaking slightly as though overcome. Her back sagged against the door, needing it's solid support to keep her upright as she closed her eyes briefly. 

I wanted to step forward and scoop her up into my arms, to rain kisses down on her wet face. I wanted to carry her to the bed, to give in to the need that I had, and reaffirm our love in the most basic, primal way. I did none of those things, merely standing there, our only connection the lacing grip of our fingers. 

"Belle..." 

"I'm so..." She started to whisper, then shook her mind. "How can I trust you? How can I believe in anything you say? How can I know that this isn't all some big game to you, some last attempt at revenge on Rumplestiltskin? How can I..How can I know if you really do love me....?" 

"How can I NOT love you?" I countered, which earned me a confused look from her. "Belle...you are a hard person not to like, and an even harder woman not to love. Getting to know you, fostering a friendship with you, I saw YOU and not the revenge you once represented. I experienced your warmth, your kind heart, your intelligent mind, your fun seeking sense of adventure. You weren't just easy to talk to, you were a joy to be around. Being with you, opened up a world of possibilities to me, and yes it scared me, and yes I nearly ran. But it was unthinkable, unbearable the thought of going without you. Before I had realized it, you had done the impossible, not only putting together my broken heart, but claiming it for your own." 

"KIllian....." 

"I'm a happier, richer person for knowing--loving you." I continued. "A man who may not yet be worthy of that love, but I'm a man who is trying his damn best every day to change, to not only earn it, but be worthy of having that love returned." 

I paused a beat, giving her time to let my words wash over her. They seemed to make her cry even more, a few sobs escaping her as great rolling tears flooded down her cheeks. I still kept hold of her hand, cursing my hook and it's inability to wipe away even one of her tears. More than that, I cursed myself, wanting, needing to comfort her, but not trusting what I would do should I have her so completely in my arms. 

"Belle...." My voice broke with a harsh sound, with the most important of questions I had to ask her. It was a question I was certain of the answer to, a question whose answer had to be voiced not for my sake but for hers. Belle needed to hear it as much as I did, the vocalizing of the heart of all her pain and torment. 

"Do you still love me?" 

A startled, wounded look from her, Belle shaking even more. Her trembles reached even to her fingers, and I gripped them harder as I raised her hand to my face. I was already brushing kisses over them, when she closed her eyes, and nodded. 

"God help me, but I do." 

She seemed to sag with that admission, and this time I moved to catch her. Belle was unresisting as I gathered her in my arms, not so much as a peep escaping her as I began raining kisses on her tear salted skin. My lips traced over her cheeks, kissed over her lowered, wet lashes, and finally her lips. Joy hit and overwhelmed me, as I felt her respond, her lips sweetly clinging to mine in growing desperation as her arms wound about my neck and shoulders. 

When she went up on tip toe, when her fingers tangled in my hair, it was as though all her doubts and insecurities had fled, her resistance ceding to the desperate, needy passion we both had for one another. My body always already on the cusp of that desperate wanting, lit on fire, it's flames fanned further by the way Belle pressed and slowly, purposefully rubbed herself against it. Always on the verge, my erection grew to that swift, painful throbbing state, and there was no time for anything save seeing to the need that drove me. 

The sounds that followed were her excited gasp, Belle pinned against the door, as my hand and hook searched under her nightgown. No care was shown to the flimsy material that served as her panties, my hook tearing it apart with one pull. I felt the dig of her nails in my shoulders, as she clung to me, Belle not only allowing but helping me to lift her up off the floor, her legs wrapping around me, her ankles locked at my back. 

There was no second guessing, no doubts or hesitations. In that moment we both wanted--NEEDED this, and her body was just as ready as mine was. A few rubs over the dampening slit of her, and then I was pushing inside. Slick wet heat enveloped me in greeting, the deepest, most guttural of moans escaping me. Her own soft squeal accompanied it, Belle's chest heaving, straining at the fabric over her breasts. But even as I was aware of them pressing against me, the need I had was too strong to focus on anything but the connection of our bodies and the look in her eyes. That lost, desperate yearning, and the way her insides squeezed around me tighter than a fist. 

So tight, it was all I could do to keep moving, a frantic, hard thrusting inside her, that had me yelling her name. Belle answered me with cries of her own, her nails tearing at my shirt, her feet digging into my butt. She wiggled and danced on me, her moans music that only made me more savage. I all but pounded her impression into the wood of the door, maintaining our eye contact the entire time. 

It was explosive, it was wild, it was pure need driven as what felt like an eternity of separation was ended, our bodies both reaching climax within seconds of one another. My harsh panting was offset by her breathy way of gasping, Belle holding me as I leaned into her and the door, my cock still inside her. I could feel the damp, sticky remains of our mutual release around me, could feel the tears in my skin where her nails had penetrated. But most of all I felt her, all of her, her body and her love, and in that moment she wasn't fighting, wasn't dealing with her pain and confusion instead merely existing. 

I bowed my head in humble gratitude, touching our foreheads together as I stared into her eyes. I told her again that I loved her, that I would always love her but instead of answering she merely tightened her arms' hold around me. In that moment, she wasn't ready. Not to truly commit to anything, and maybe not to forgive. But she wasn't yet regretting what had just happened, Belle having need me as much I have needed her. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


	12. Twelve

It was exhausting the amount of need and desperation that have driven me. The fear and the worries, the uncertainties for our future, for what I might do, for how far I might go, had not only left me tired, but in a constant state of restlessness. When I slept, it was fitful, my splintering heart refusing to give me a moment's peace so long as Belle was withheld from me. I've only had a small measure of peace afforded me since taking her, all my pain and uncertainties unable to ease even half way. It's the same for her, Belle hurting and scared, tormented by what I have done, what I might still do, and by the love she still has and struggles with. 

I won't lie and say it wasn't gratifying to know that she still loved me. That she not only still had those feelings, but that her own need was such that for one brief moment Belle had been able to put aside all her doubts and her pain to just live in the moment. In that one moment, she hadn't focused on the fact that I had lied to her, had hurt her, had nearly killed her, and had stolen from her, her life as she had known it. Instead, Belle had focused on a need that went beyond a body's desire, my beloved wanting the comfort and connection of my body inside hers. 

It was a connection we had both needed, and desperately. A comfort so powerful, we were both loathe to give it up. She made no attempt to wiggle free of me, just as I made no attempt to pull out. If I could have, I think I would have stayed buried inside her for forever, or frozen this moment to be more than just a memory. It wasn't a perfect moment by any means, but with so much still uncertain and unsaid, my pain laced heart feared what would happen once this tentative peace shattered. 

It was a fear she shared, though I can't claim to know a person's thoughts so thoroughly. But I judged her based on how she clung to me, arms and legs locked firmly behind my back, Belle gripping me as though she would never let go. It couldn't have been that comfortable for her, what with the wood of the door pressing so harshly at her back. But Belle voiced no complaints, simply laying her head onto the crook of one shoulder, her breath warming my skin there. 

God help me, but holding her this close, listening to, feeling her breathe, smelling her hair, and feeling her heat all around me? It made me crazed. Wild and hungry and it wouldn't be long before my body's desire would flare stronger and more potent than before. Because having her once wasn't enough, and not even a dozen times or more would calm the fire in my veins. The lust that lay so closely tied to my love and desire for this woman, and this woman alone. 

Not wanting to be a complete savage, I began attempting to shift out of her. She made a half hearted protest, her arms and legs tightening further around me, Belle as possessive of this moment as I. I let out a strangled chuckle, muttering something about how she'll bring more trouble than either of our exhausted bodies could take at the moment. Belle just made a sound, something very close to grumbling displeasure but she let me move us, so that I lifted her up into my arms bridal style. 

Her arms wound about my neck, her head resting on my shoulder as I carried her to the bed. She didn't try to pull away, or protest, actually snuggling up against my side. I didn't know what to think, what to hope for, or even what to feel. I just knew I shouldn't get my hopes up, that I shouldn't let what had happened make me think in any way that everything was going to work out the way I wanted. I knew this, and yet a part of me still hoped regardless. 

A stronger part was fearful, rendering me too coward to ask out loud. Instead of facing what had happened, and what it could mean for us, I said nothing. I merely stroked my fingers through her hair, over and over, the repeating caress lulling Belle into a much needed sleep. I'd fall asleep soon after, but we wouldn't rest for long. Maybe an hour at most, just enough to recharge some of our lost energy and determination. 

Just as before, my fingers would run through her hair, combing through those silken locks of chocolate colored strands. Over and over, cherishing that touch, savoring the cool silk of it. It was both a reassuring touch, and a comforting one, Belle here and real, and laying pressed up against me. Her arm lay across my waist, her warm breath fanned across my skin. But she was quiet, neither acknowledging my touch, nor shying away from it, instead simply existing. 

I think we could have gone on indefinitely like this, hiding from our troubles, from the problems we needed to address. There were confrontations that still needed to be had, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't believe that just because she had allowed me that frantic joining, that the sex had solved the problems between us. Those problems stretched before us, but the distance no longer seemed like so long a yawning gap of impossibility. I felt as though there was a chance, that our love could still prevail. That things weren't as dire as they had once seemed. 

With thoughts like those, it was impossible for hope not to bloom just a little within me. And though I was loathe to break the almost comfortable silence that now existed in this bed, I also couldn't be the coward, hiding from what must be faced. 

"Belle..." I began, my voice sounding hoarse to my own ears. "What now...?" 

Such a difficult question, both to ask and to answer, Belle expelling a breath that was the most tortured sigh I have ever heard from her. 

"I don't know." She whispered, and in an odd way that gave me hope too. Undecided she might be, but even if she wasn't favoring me, she also wasn't pushing me away any longer. I had to fight the grin that threatened on my face, ready to make claims that we would figure it out, that we would work together to the outcome that I wanted, and so I believed did she. Even if she wasn't ready to admit it, to me, or to herself. 

"I suppose...returning to Storybrooke is still out of the question?" She sighed again when I hesitated, sounding so weary and defeated with that sound. 

"Would you run if we did?" I asked, and felt her shrug against me. 

"Would it make any difference?" Belle wondered. "You'd only give chase...." 

"I'll always give chase." I answer. "Belle, love, I will follow you to the ends of the world if that is what it took." 

She didn't ask why, already knowing the answer I would give. I don't know if she trusted in the love that I have for her, but she trusted in the belief I have that that love was real to me. Realer than anything, more precious than life itself. 

"You are the most important to me." I tell her. "There's nothing I won't do, no lengths I won't go through to prove to you, Belle, how much you matter." 

"Including hurting Ruby?" 

My fingers still, my hand freezing on her hair. There's no good way to spin what I had done, but the wolf had been an obstacle that had been necessary to remove. "I didn't want to have to go that far..." I sound guilty even to myself. "If she had only succumb to the powder..." 

Belle lifted up off me, looking up at me with her beautiful blue eyes. "What was that powder? The same as what you used on me?" 

"Hardly." I hold her gaze, but am uncertain what feelings to show. "What I used on you wouldn't have affected a werewolf in the slightest. No, it would take wolf's bane or something stronger to put down a wolf....and even with the powder, Ruby kept going after me." 

"She wasn't going to kill you...." 

"She certainly wanted to try!" I retort. "Belle, I know she was only trying to protect you darling. But she was in the way. I had to remove her in the most effective way I could, short of killing her." 

She shivered in response. 

"It was a necessary evil." I continued, and watched the anger take hold of her at my next words. "YOU left me no other choice." 

"So it's my fault?!" Belle demanded, her pouty, kissable lips all but scowling. "I forced you to stalk me, to kidnap me, to hurt Ruby and God knows how many others?!" 

"Yes." I say it firmly, ignoring her scoff. "You did. If you hadn't run, hadn't' hid behind the protection of your powerful friends....if you hadn't locked yourself so completely away from me. If you had just been willing to talk..." 

"And you would have been content with just talking?!" Belle asked. Again that scoffing sound with her. "You wanted to do more than just talk at the library." 

Heat colored my face. "I didn't handle that well." I admitted. "I was so desperate, and damn near frantic, maybe even insane a bit, sick with worry and fear, and needing you back in whatever way I could get." 

"You scared me near to death!" Belle confided, and then another soft spoken confession. "Sometimes you still do." 

"Sometimes?" I question with an arch of my brow. 

She shifted in place, her cheeks coloring with an embarrassed warmth. "Most times..." She gave a weary sigh. "You're unpredictable. You've proven that much with the lengths you've gone to to get to me." 

"I'm driven by the love I have for you. Is that so bad?" I asked, and dare risk touching her cheek. 

"I..." My heart cried in protest when she turned away. "I don't....It is when you go to far?" 

"What is too far?" I challenged. "Is not everything fair in love and war?" I moved towards her, reaching out to embrace her from behind. "And is not for love the greatest reason to do battle?" 

She couldn't deny it, nor could Belle claim we weren't doing exactly that, both of us in love, but both of us each other's opponent. I fought for our love, while Belle tried to run from it and me. 

"It is..." She grudgingly allowed. "When it's real." 

"It is." I whispered in her ear. "Real and precious, and meant to be cherished. It's not something to be feared...." 

"I am not afraid of love." She insisted. "But." A small allowance. "I am afraid of....afraid of....how desperate it makes you." 

I smiled into her hair. "It's not love that makes me that way. It's the loss of it, the threat of being denied it and from you. It's that pain that goads me, that leaves me hurting and desperate. Can you not say you've not felt even a glimmer of it too?" 

She leaves me waiting, a long pause of silence stretching out between us. Finally Belle seems to sag in place, bowing her head in acknowledgement. "I've more than felt it." She admits softly. "I never knew..." She shakes her head, the thought dying unspoken. "It didn't hurt this badly when Rumplestiltskin rejected me. I was more angry than anything. For the longest time I..." Another shake of her head. "When I decided to fight for him, for us...it was, it was as though a great weight had lifted up off me." 

"And then things started to happen...one after another, always tearing us apart." Belle continued. "But always I kept my hope, believing that one day we would be rewarded, that one day I would have the love that I had always dreamt of." 

Suddenly turning towards me, our lips close enough to kiss, her blue eyes flashing, I almost didn't notice Belle's hands had formed fists until after she started knocking them against my chest. 

"Belle?" I asked, grabbing at one of her wrists. "Love?" 

"Why?" She asked, and it was a harsh whisper. "Why did it have to be you?" Why did it have to be you to make me feel all these things?!" 

I was enfolding her in my arms, both with the need to comfort her and to stop her fists beating. She trembled and shook, quivering with the violent intensities of her emotions. "Why?" She whispered again, her voice breaking on her next word. "My biggest enemy, my greatest love, more hurt than I can stand..." 

"Then let go, love..." I urged her. "Let go of the past, and the hurt, and focus on the here and now." 

"I....I can't..." She lifted her head, her eyes no longer angry but instead wet with her pain. "How can I love---how can I have a future with someone who was trying to kill me?!" 

My pain and remorse, I let it show. Even the guilt I let her see, for I didn't regret what I had done. How could I? If it wasn't for that fateful night, for my attack on her, I doubt we would ever have gotten the chance to know one another, let alone a chance to fall in love. 

"You're not even sorry, are you?" She accused, and I sighed in response. 

"I can't entirely say I am. Not when it was the catalyst for the love that would follow." I touched our foreheads together, tightening my arms around her before she could even think to struggle. "Belle. I didn't know you then. Not as a person not as anything but that monster's weakness. It wasn't about hurting you, but hurting him." 

"And that is supposed to make me feel better?!" She demanded. 

"No, it is not. But I am trying to explain...." I shrugged then. "Or maybe justify what I feel. Because the truth is, without my targeting you, without my shooting you over the curse's boundary, I would never have gotten the chance to know you, let alone fall in love with you. I can't completely regret it, though my blood runs ice cold when I think of how close I came to actually killing you rather than cursing you. If the bullet had hit in the wrong spot, if you had moved the wrong way....so many factors could have kept us from ever knowing, loving each other in the first place!" 

She continued to tremble, much of it her agitation making itself known. 

"Belle...I didn't often think about fate. I thought I'd make my own destiny, rather than leave it up to chance. But too much happened, too much to believe our love is nothing but an accident. Someone, fate, or God, had a plan for us. They lined everything up, so that we could eventually meet, so that our love could---would happen." 

"If true, fate has a twisted sense of humor." Belle muttered to me. 

"She's never been painted as kind, and the road to true love has always been marked with many twists and perils." Once more, I began stroking her hair. "Think back on the stories you've heard, of all the great loves of our world. The problems and difficulties that plagued them." 

"They all had to struggle to reach their happy ever after." Belle acknowledged. "Sometimes even against their own selves." 

"They overcame so much, just for a taste of a love that would last their whole lives. How can we not do the same?" 

"I don't..." She shook her head, then straightened in my embrace. "I'm not ready to forgive you, Killian. But....but I would be willing to try to work things out." 

The lopsided grin broke free, leaving me practically beaming at her. "You won't regret this, I promise!" 

She looked as though she had her doubts about that. "But you must promise me one thing." 

"What? Anything!" 

"You WILL bring me back to Storybrooke." I began to shake my head, frowning, which left Belle hastily amending. "In a few days' time then?" She sighed. "Regardless of what happens, regardless of what decisions are made. I want you to promise you'll turn this ship back in three days' time." 

I hesitate still, muttering about how three days didn't seem like enough time. Belle practically smirked at me as she chided, saying something about how three days time was more than fair enough 

Now it was my turn to sigh, and bow my head in acquiescence. "All right." I grumbled. "Three days. But only if you promise to truly try to forgive me and to try to work things out." 

She gave a shy almost smile, and with a gentle hand, caressed her fingers over my cheek. I froze in shock, for it felt like the first touch she had initiated in just about forever without my doing one first. Crazily, my heart swelled to bursting, such joy experienced from so simple a touch. 

She wasn't promising me forever though. She wasn't even promising me a week. But Belle had given me three days, and I meant to make them count. But a dark, sinister thought remained, it's voice a persistent buzz. Asking me what would I do if the three days passed, and she still wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't know, and that scared me almost as much as the possibility of her potential rejection. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


	13. Thirteen

The sound of running water intrudes into my awareness. That persistent sound of a million drops pounding against the tile, their spray a dull roar that has me slowly jolting awake. For one second I wallow in the disorientation that follows a long sleep. And then it all comes barreling back, the memories, the deal making, the hopes and the love, and even that sinister fear. I push it back, trying to stay positive, to focus on the good but there's an uncertainty that remains. 

At the heart of that uncertainty? The three days that Belle has given me. That slim window of opportunity, that one chance she's given me, given us, and it doesn't feel like nearly enough. Not with the amount of hurt Belle is clinging to, the fears and uncertainties that I myself echo. The worry that's been hinted at, thought about, neither one of us sure just how far I will go, to what lengths my desperation for her will ultimately push me to. 

Especially when there's not much I haven't already done. I've stalked her, hurt her, hurt others, and a part of me knows I would do it again in a heart beat. She's not someone I can let go, Belle now that vital part of me that makes everything, life, a future, a chance, worth pursuing. Belle makes me into a different man than I once was, has actively transformed me time and time again. I've gone from that bitter, revenge seeking cad, to a man mellowed out by and embraced by love. To this mad, desperate fellow who would and has done just about everything in the pursuit of that love. 

Driven by it, by that need for her, nothing short of forever will do. I won't settle for less, will make every minute count, these next three days a battle that must be won. I'll bring everything to bare against her, my love, my desires, my hopes and my promises. I'll use every memory against her, lay the truth of it at Belle's feet. I'll fight for her so hard that it will leave us both exhausted, until Belle has no choice but to accept that her future is me. 

This determination is nothing new. It's fueled me in it's own desperate way for the past several days. But now there is a new layer to it's side, the hope that Belle herself has given me coloring it. It's a hope that I have been lacking, a hope that has been reborn on the heels of the chance she has given me now. Bolstered by it, and by the love Belle herself has admitted to feeling, the heaviest of weights has lifted up off me. There's actually a spring to my step as I move across the room, and it comes as no surprise that I find myself hesitating outside the bathroom's door. 

I can still hear the shower, the full force of the water's blast. Subtler yet is the soft sounds of her movements, and fainter yet is the imagined heat of the steam that must surely be filling the room. I swear I can feel the echo of it on my skin, my hand laid on the thin wood of the door, hovering paused on a decision that can be either right or wrong. What I want weighed against what is right, my every move must be calculated, my intent not to seduce just her body, but the very heart of Belle's soul. All must be had to win her, Belle a beautiful, intelligent being that won't let her choice be swayed on the lusts of her desires alone. 

The same can't be said of ME, my desire for her knowing no bounds. It's only grown worse by the separation endured, my body, my lust longing to make up for lost time. I want to fall on her, to love her, to ravish her so thoroughly, until she's panting and screaming, and can't remember anything but my name. I want to become the air that she breathes, the colors that she sees, the heat that she feels. I want my taste and touch to consume her, want our love to become her own personal prayer. I want all of her senses besotted, Belle blind, deaf, and numb to everything but me. 

In some ways I can do just that. I can glut her on desire, make Belle ride wave after wave of sexual ecstasy. There's no end to the heights of frenzied lust I can bring her, my every touch, thrust, and kiss pleasure personified. And it alone still won't be enough to make her want to stay with me for forever. 

My fingers curl against the wood of the door in acknowledgement, and with the greatest exhalation of breath, I push away from it. My breath then turns ragged, and I scrub over my face with my shaking hand. It takes more strength than Belle will ever know to resist her, for me to NOT join her in the shower. It is a fight for control, a struggle against the time she takes, every second a torture that leaves me a ball of wound up tension by the time Belle emerges from the bathroom. I can't stop my eyes from drinking her in, from doing a slow once over as Belle stands there in the doorway. She's exchanged the nightgown for one of my shirts, and the black garment is no less provocative. I can't stop the slow smirk, can't keep the heat from my eyes,when looking at her moon pale skin that contrasts so brilliantly against the dark silk. 

Uncertainty is her response, Belle shifting in place, an arm raising so that her fingers can tuck loose curls of her hair back over one ear. There's a faint hint of a blush, and as it creeps over her neck, I want to follow it past my shirt's collar, to see just how far that pink color will extend. By some small miracle I manage the control needed and do no worse than look at her. But I can't stop the husky cadence that slips into my voice, my hungry, heated gaze never leaving her shy one as I greet Belle with a hello. 

Belle is almost meek as she echoes my greeting, her fingers still fidgeting over her damp hair. My own arm lifts, my fingers longing for a touch of any kind, but instead I beckon her closer with a simple gesture. Belle hesitates like a lamb sensing slaughter, but ultimately my brave girl shores up her nerve to pad bare foot across the room and touch her fingers to mine. I immediately close my hand around hers, knowing she can feel the fine tremble of my arm, and then give Belle what is meant to be my most charming smile. It is strained around the corners, the struggle to master my desires fighting it out in my eyes. Belle stares unflinching into my dark gaze, and I want nothing more than to close the distance between us with a kiss. 

Instead I speak, my hoarse, husky tone stating that Belle must be terribly hungry. There's a heart beat of pause there, and then Belle slowly nods her head. 

"Starved." She admits, and I have to fight against cracking a hollow joke about my own particular appetite. It's not food I am hungry for, and Belle knows it, trembling besides me as I lead her out of the cabin and into the narrow hall of the ship. Through the portholes that line one side of the hall, we can see the dim, overcast day that it is turning out to be. I'd be worried if the clouds were any darker, but it's not bad weather that is brewing, the only storm to be found for miles around, the maelstrom of feelings that surrounds us now. There's a tension brewing between us, feelings left unspoken as we both for the moment avoid what must be said. I lead Belle to the ship's galley, and seat her at the kitchen's counter. She watches me move about the kitchen, and then to my surprise joins me by the pantry. Wordlessly, I hand her a carving knife, and Belle sets herself to skinning various fruits. 

For a time we maintain the quiet, the only sound the flame of the stove's fire, and the chop chop of my knife. There's the occasional sizzle as various bits of vegetables and meat are tossed into the pan, the room filling with the appetizing smell of sirloin stir fry while Belle works on making a fruit salad. She keeps busy the entire time until the beauty reaches into a basket and her hand emerges with a ripe grape fruit. Belle stares at it a long moment, and I wonder what memory has her. The night I had stolen for her, or the more recent memory we had made at the grocery store. 

I can't bare the not knowing, the stir fry ignored as I turn my full focus to her. "What is it?" I ask Belle, my voice soft and rasping. "What are you remembering?" 

"There....there was a time..." She begins in a soft, hesitant tone. "A time I can remember where I didn't even like much the taste of grapefruit." 

The surprise shows in my eyes, my voice oddly hoarse as I point out that for the seven months I had known her, Belle had more than just enjoyed grapefruit, she had LOVED it. 

"I know." She whispers. She looks up from the ripe fruit that has held her transfixed for the past few seconds, meeting my eyes with a disquieted gaze of her own. "There's a lot I like now that I hadn't before." 

"Is that so?" I ask, trying and failing to maintain a neutral tone. 

She nods slowly. "Yes." From the look on her face, Belle is struggling with how much to confess to me. "From food, to activities, to people..." 

"People?" I inquire with a suggestive lift of my brow. She frowns in response, and lets out a put upon sigh. 

"All right. Not so much people as one person in particular." 

I can't help the grin that threatens to split my face in half. I am sure it looks ridiculous, the amount of how happy her admittance makes me. Belle keeps on frowning, setting down the fruit and the knife, to then cross her arms over her chest as though she was cold. 

Still grinning, I start to inch closer to her. "And.." I slowly drawl out a question. "Does this person have a name?" But we both already know I know just who she means, Belle's lips flattening into a mirthless expression as she eyes my approach. Such a wary, humorless look doesn't suit her, but it also doesn't detract one bit from Belle's timeless beauty. 

"Is is really that bad?" I question her. "Liking new things?" 

"No..." She says it with a slow shake of her head. "It's not necessarily bad at all." 

I grin even more in response, my lips parting with another question, a half curious, half teasing inquiry that wonders just what those other new things that she likes could be. I'm especially interested in what Belle had meant by activities, but she's quickly trying to divert my attention to more serious matters. 

"I won't ask how you could do it. Not when I know you were motivated by a need for revenge." 

"Then what WILL you ask?" I inquire, all my earlier smiles gone to the caution I now feel. She could and will ask me anything, and there is much that I can admit I need to account for. I know it won't all be easy, more than a few reckonings needed to be had. Worse yet I know I don't have the luxury of time to play coy. I must be direct and honest, and face even the things that paint me in the most terrible a light. 

"Why you waited as long as you did...?" 

It's an easier question than I had been expecting, but I don't relax even a margin. Nor do I pretend to not know exactly what Belle alludes to, my tone blunt as I attempt to clarify exactly what she means. "You mean to ask me why I did not make love to you a lot sooner than I did?" 

It is an immense relief that she doesn't argue my choice of words, that Belle doesn't insist it was anything but a love making. Her blush deepens in color, the woman holding my gaze as she nods a yes in response. 

"Do you remember the first time that we kissed?" 

Again Belle nods, and then she adds something to the conversation that nearly strikes me speechless. "I was ready for more than just a kiss that day....If you had...I mean, it wouldn't have taken much more effort to convince me to do more...." 

"The truth? You had me running scared." She looks confused by my admittance, and the smile that blossoms is an embarrassed and downright sheepish look on my face. "I hadn't been prepared for my reaction to you, to the feelings that had developed. I was in effect blind sided, my soft heart felt feelings ones I hadn't known I was even capable of." 

I let out a shaky breath, still wearing that sheepish expression. "I can't even pinpoint when exactly it had started to happen, but at some point you had begun to matter to me. In ways that had nothing to do with my revenge. I liked being with you, and I realized I liked you as a person. It wasn't yet love, but it was something awfully close to it, and if I had realized it any sooner, I probably would have run away rather than risk the hurt I was perhaps courting." 

"But I didn't, and I can't regret any of what happened next." I tell her, my expression turning absolutely serious, no trace of that embarrassed, sheepish look remaining. "That day when we first kissed, it was the first inkling I had that perhaps there was something---someONE I wanted more than the vengeance that I craved. Such a notion had me rent in two, torn between my desire for you, and the desire to finally revenge myself on Rumplestiltskin." 

"The fact that I might want you MORE than I had wanted vengeance? I hadn't known how to cope with just the idea of it, let alone the reality. I wasn't ready to let go of the revenge I had pursued for so many years, but more than that I was afraid of love, of being hurt again." 

"Killian..." Belle breathed out my name softly, and started to take a step towards me. Her blue eyes shined with emotion, Belle unable to remain unmoved by what I was revealing. I held myself still for her approach, barely daring to breath as Belle moved within touching distance to me. She had to swallow several times before her voice could speak without breaking, asking me when I had got past those fears. 

I went absolutely quiet for a moment, but it wasn't her nearness that had me so distracted. "In some ways..." I begin my admittance slowly. "That fear is still with me. I love you, Belle....but I am also so afraid. Of losing you. Be it by Rumplestiltskin's hand, or by your own decision." 

I touch her face then, my trembling hand cupping the side of it. Her skin is warm against my palm, and a lone tear slips past it. "I'm afraid, Belle...terrified of what I will do, the lengths I will go to keep you." 

She stares up at me, blue eyes swimming with tears that she won't let fall. "Why are you even telling me this?" 

"Because you deserve to know the truth. Of and about everything. You need to know the kind of man you are with, the kind of man that has been forged by both past hurts and this love I have for you. You've a right to be afraid, I've already done some pretty desperate, deplorable things." I bent over her, never breaking eye contact, my lips hungering for more than just a kiss. They brush over her mouth, the softest whisper of a kiss that can't hide the sinister undertone of my words. "And there's not much if any of it that I actually regret." 

With a cry she breaks the kiss, Belle shaking as she lurches backwards away from me. She hugs her arms around her body, staring at me with a look that is as broken as I feel inside. I've never felt more damaged than I do now, my healing heart split apart by the sickness that is my love for this beautiful woman. I know I should be doing anything, everything to win her, even lie, and yet deceit is the one thing I am no longer capable of when I am near her. And maybe it's a roundabout step I've taken towards winning back her trust, Belle needing to know everything, even how far I will go, if she, we, are going to stand any chance of a love that is redeeming. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued.....


	14. Four

She stares at me with eyes that are wet and gleaming, wearing some broken, damaged look that is a mirror of what I feel. The fright that Belle shows me is nothing new, but that bleak, almost hopeless look is, and it kills me inside. I've got her running scared again, but more than that, I've got Belle feeling as though she is all out of options. And maybe that part is as true as anything else, this desperation I feel a mad, unreasonable thing that drives me to do much, many of it inconceivable. I must seem like a nightmare made real, a monster more horrific than any she has ever known, and it's all the scarier because it's love for Belle that has made me like so. 

"I'm sorry." I say, and my insincere words can't abolish the uncomfortable beat between us. I can't and won't apologize for loving her, but I am sorry it--I, frighten her so. The sad truth of it is I frighten myself, the love that I feel transforming me into someone desperate and damn near unrecognizable. I'm not the man I once was, and I am nowhere near the man I had started to become for her. I'm someone infinitely more dangerous, and a dozen times more unpredictable. 

He--I leave her disturbed, Belle visibly shaking, her arms hugged around her for warmth and comfort as she stares at me with a look that is stricken at best. Some damage control is needed, but I haven't the faintest idea what exactly should be done. That same love that empowers me leaves me floundering, the loss of it making me crazed, even stupid. 

"I'm sorry." I say again, and rub my hand over my face. "Maybe that was a little too honest." 

She starts to say something in reply, then hesitates, a nervous flick of her tongue washing over her bottom lip. Belle takes in and lets out a deep breath, and I don't think my encouraging nod is what gathers strength to her. 

"Are you....were you even ever planning on bringing me back to Storybrooke once the three days have passed?" 

Now I am the one to hesitate, actually twisting at my hook with my fingers. "I......maybe yes, maybe no..." I let out a bitter sound. "Hell love, I know what I WANT to do versus what I SHOULD do." 

"And what is that?" 

The look I give her is not exactly pleasant, my gaze dark and heated. There's a message to the look, one that practically dares her to ask again. She persists all the same, Belle's voice almost strong, and more than a little demanding. 

"Killian, tell me." 

"Before or after I make love to you a dozen and a half different ways?" I challenged her, never losing the dark heat in my eyes. "Because that's never far from my mind, Belle. It's more than desire, and it's about more than sex. It's a need I have, to be close to you, to connect to you. To have the taste of your kiss on my lips, the feel of your breath on my skin, to hear your moans in my ear. I don't just want you to say you love me, I want to feel it, to know that feeling is deep in your heart as you quiver and break apart. I want you screaming for me, coming for me, but more than that I want you to BELIEVE." 

My own breath had harshened as bodily testament to the passion I felt in just speaking about this to her. I think my eyes might have blazed at the last of it, and without thinking I had begun to advance on her. 

"Belle..." I felt and was ruthless, stalking towards her even as she began to press back against the kitchen's counter. Her hands gripped at the smooth wood that was in her way, Belle wide eyed and staring, her chest heaving with her uncertain breath. I was in effect scaring her again, and I couldn't seem to stop. "Do you know why I haven't taken you past the curse's boundary? Can you even fathom why I haven't given in to such a very real temptation? Can you?" 

"It would be SO easy." I continue before she can try to speak. I am there looming over her, my hand cupping the side of her face. The panic Belle feels freezes her in place, her blue eyes wide and wild in contrast to the growing darkness of my own mirthless expression. "You wouldn't be afraid anymore. Of me, of your feelings, or our love." 

My hook had caught at the front of the shirt she had borrowed, the tip of starting to tear open the front in a jagged line downwards. Belle's breath quickened even more, her hand reaching to grab at my wrist, to stop me, and then the cold curve of my hook was pressing over her heart. 

"This is why I DON'T do it." I tell her. "This beautiful, proud and fierce heart that deserves so much better than to have me, to have anyone, destroy it. Because Belle, if I destroy you, I destroy it, all the memories we shared, all the love we have had, gone once you cross over that line. I don't want a shell of who you once were, a body with your face. I want YOU. All of you, from every emotion, every thought, to every memory good or bad. I want and love YOU, Belle, and not who I could turn you into." 

"I..." Those words of mine had rendered my beautiful girl speechless, her lips trembling open and then closed on that stuttered word. 

"I know that the way things are now, I might never see you look at me with all the love and affection I have grown used to. But better I never see that, than to lose so completely the woman that you are, the woman that I fell helplessly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with." 

I'm still looming over her, and Belle is still gripping my wrist just below where the metal of my hook takes place of my lost hand. I want so badly to kiss her, not just because I love her, and not just because I want her but because the words are coming, a flood of them pouring out of me and I don't think I can stop. And a part of me doesn't want to. 

"So yes, I will return us to Storybrooke even if the unbearable should happen." I don't give her time to wallow in relief, my cruel passion manifesting as verbal fact. "But it doesn't mean I will give up. I won't...I CAN'T! Belle, you are everything that matters to me. Maybe it's not healthy, and maybe it's not sane, but you have become the most important part of my life." 

Belle had begun to blink rapidly, her lips again trembling with her quiet efforts to speak. I so badly wanted to know her thoughts, to hear what she was trying to say. It took a concentrated effort of my own to keep quiet, the words of my heart bubbling within me, wanting, needing an outlet now that she was finally near. 

"It's...It's a lot to take in." She began. "A love like that...it's more than a little....frightening. To be that wanted, that needed, that loved? I don't think any one can be prepared for that level of devotion." 

"That's fine." I say. "I wasn't anymore prepared for it then I was prepared for YOU." That almost drew a smile, the hint of it playing at the corners of her mouth. "Belle...you...and the feelings you inspired me to feel...it's safe to say I was totally blind sided. I didn't enter into this relationship with the best of intentions...but you, the kind of person you are, you changed me. Made me start to be a better man...More than that, you made me WANT to be better. It was no longer about revenge, and living only long enough to get it....I had a new purpose, a new reason and that was you." 

The sentence barely completed, Belle has pressed her fingertips to my lips as though to stop the words from coming out. "Don't." She says softly. "Don't make me your only reason for living. It's too much....too much for any one person to bare." 

"But it's true." 

"You think I want that?!" Her eyes suddenly flashed, the first hint of her pain giving way to an anger. "You think it makes me happy to know your life, your happiness hinges on my decisions?! Killian, no! I wanted someone who would fight for me, fight for my love, not be consumed by it!" 

Startled, I drew back as though struck by her. I must have worn a wounded expression the likes of which softened the worst of Belle's anger. Her blue eyes now gleamed with a blinding compassion, Belle stepping towards me, both her hands reaching to cup firmly my face. She forced me to look at her, to stare at the truth that glinted in her eyes. 

"A love should be a partnership. One half shouldn't hold all the power over the other. It won't flourish otherwise." 

She was right of course. I could recognize that much at least. But I felt trapped, locked in obsession, consumed by the very passion that was my love for her, for Belle. I didn't know how to love less, how to lessen the strength of my driving need for her, wanting to both posses Belle and be owned by her. 

"God help me." I ended up whispering it out loud. "How?!" 

That very God I prayed to might not have taken pity on me, but Belle did, an already compassionate gaze softening even further. "It starts with small steps." She said. "Finding, remembering the things that once mattered." 

"I don't know if I can remember that far back." I told her. 

I watched her frown in response. "Well..." She began slowly. "Maybe we don't have to go back quite that far. Maybe all we need to do is look around." 

I must have looked confused, for Belle smiled. "Like having a roof over your head. The clothes on your back, the food on your plate." She then let go of my face, placing her right hand on my chest. "The heart that still beats, the eyes that still see...Killian, life is a miracle, and wonders happen every day. Everything from the sun setting, to the rainbow after a storm. We just need to appreciate them." 

"I'd rather appreciate them WITH you." 

"That's fine." She said slowly. "Just so long as you aren't only able to appreciate life and it's wonders THROUGH me." 

It was easier said then done, the last seven months spent with her having left an indelible mark. Not just on me, but on Storybrooke, it's wonders and marvels all colored with memories that Belle herself had had a starring role in. Everything from discovering the creamy cold treat that was known as ice cream, to laying snuggled together on Granny's floral patterned couch while watching that magic box that was called a TV. I had been all over Storybrooke with Belle, laughing, loving, living. 

Some part of me must have mellowed at just the thought, my energy turning relaxed, much of the tension leaving me and in turn leaving her. With the memory of Belle's laughter echoing through my thoughts, I gave her a crooked smile. 

"Learn to appreciate the wonders all around me, eh?" Difficult that, when Belle was before me, the most wondrous, and lush marvel made real, my dream girl in the flesh. 

She nodded at me, so solemn, so serious, almost seeming to hold her breath when I turned away from her. I spied the pan on the stove, the stir fry just seconds away from smoking, and hurried towards it. 

By some miracle, it hadn't yet burnt to be inedible. I quickly put out the stove's flames, and left the pan to rest on the counter, a plate underneath it so that the heat of it's metal wouldn't scar it's imprint into the wood. While I did this, Belle finished up with preparing the fruit salad, and soon we were sitting down at the counter, enjoying a leisurely if quiet meal. 

The chatter in my head wasn't anywhere as quiet, my thoughts more than making up for the lack of conversation between us. I kept thinking on Belle, on what she had said, her views on love, and what she wanted from a partner. On some level I knew she was right, my love not so much nurturing as a suffocating, frightening thing. It bordered on unhealthy, these feelings that I have as much obsession as it was loving, twisting together to become some dark, deranged thing. It--I was as much my opponent as Belle in this, the worst of me an enemy I MUST master and defeat. Only then do I truly stand a real shot of it, a real chance at a future with Belle. 

\---------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


End file.
